SOCIAL  SANITY 


SCOTT  NEARING 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


■Xj 


SOCIAL  SANITY 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

SOCIAL  ADJUSTMENT 
THE  SUPER  RACE 
A  SOLUTION  OF  THE 

CHILD  LABOR  PROBLEM 
WAGES  IN  THE  UNITED  STATES 
ETC.,  ETC. 


SOCIAL    SANITY 


A  PREFACE  TO   THE  BOOK  OF  SOCIAL 
PROGRESS 


BY 

SCOTT  NEARING 

WHARTON    SCHOOL,    UNIVERSITY   Or   PENNSYLVANIA 


NEW   YORK 

MOFFAT,  YARD  AND  COMPANY 

1913 


COPYRIGHT,    1913,   BY  MOrFAT,   YARX)  AND  COMPANY 


To  those  who  believe  : — 

In  the  fundamental  integrity  and  nobility 
of  human  nature ; 

That  knowledge   should   be  placed   before 
prejudice  in  the  analysis  of  social  problems  ; 

That  man  has  a  kingdom  of  opportunity, 
duty,   responsibility,    effort,  joy,  and   life; 

and 
That  the  golden  age  of  the  world  lies  in  the 
present  and  in  the  future— not  in  the  past, 

this  book  is  dedicated. 


208136 


PREFACE 

A  QUESTIONING  age  lays  bare  the  innermost 
secrets  which  the  scalpel  of  critical  analysis  will 
reveal.  Nothing  is  so  sacred,  nothing  so  holy 
that  it  may  claim  exemption  from  the  ordeal. 
Every  available  nook  and  cranny  of  life  is 
searched,  and  the  results  of  the  investigation 
appear  in  the  daily  press.    Publicity  reigns. 

Nevertheless,  when  all  is  said,  there  must  be 
some  guiding  idea  behind  analysis  and  criticism, 
else  their  best  efforts  lead  nowhere  beyond  the 
desert  of  skepticism  and  disillusionment.  Hence 
the  necessity  for  seeking  out  and  enunciating 
some  precepts  by  the  aid  of  which  the  course 
of  society  may  be  guided.  Where  is  the  North 
Star  of  Social  Progress?  By  what  unit  shall 
men  measure  the  Sanity  of  Social  Action?  Can 
there  be  devised  a  body  of  social  metrics  by 
means  of  which  the  course  of  society  may  be 
fairly  judged? 


8  PREFACE 

It  is  the  part  of  a  sane  society  to  ask  these 
questions,  at  the  very  least.  Perhaps  there  falls, 
too,  within  the  boundaries  of  its  obligation  the 
duty  to  seek  diligently  till  they  be  answered. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

INTRODUCTION 

I.  THE    LIFE    STREAM 

II.  THE   SPIRIT    OF   SCIENCE 

III.  THE    KINGDOM    OF    MAN 

IV.  PESSIMISM    AND    OPTIMISM 
V.  LIFE    AND    LIVING 

VI.  THE    GOSPEL    OF    WELFARE 

VIL  HUMAN    RIGHTS 

VIII.  LIFE    AND    LABOR 

IX.  THE    FRUITS    OF    INDUSTRY 

X.  THE    SPIRIT   OP   REVOLT 

XI.  THE    PASSION   FOR   PROGRESS 

XII.  THE    QUINTESSENCE    OF   SOCIAL   SANITY 


PAGE 

11 

21 

43 

60 

91 

105 

133 

145 

160 

191 

214 

237 

260 


INTRODUCTION 

SOCIAL  PSYCHOLOGY   AND   SOCIAL   SANITY 

Whatever  the  modern  sociologists  may  have 
failed  to  do,  they  have  at  least  emphasized  the 
existence  of  a  social  psychology.  The  thought 
is,  to  be  sure,  not  new.  William  Shakespeare 
had  it  in  mind  when  he  pictured  Brutus  and 
Mark  Antony  pleading  their  cause  before  the 
fickle  mob  of  Romans.  In  all  forms  of  society, 
ancient  and  modern  alike,  the  "  social  mind  " 
is  a  commonplace.  A  baseball  world  series; 
a  run  on  a  bank;  a  Spanish- American  war;  a 
great  catastrophe  at  sea;  a  panic;  a  strike  of 
a  hundred  thousand,  with  its  wild  disorders,  its 
braveries,  its  fierce,  free  contentions,  and  its 
display  of  human  savageness  and  grandness, 
all  afford  ample  laboratories  for  the  study  of 
social  psychology.  The  thing  lies  at  our  doors 
in  the  shape  of  a  daily  paper;  parades  the 
streets  on  Memorial  Day;  cries  out  gleefully 
that  the  old  year  is  dead, — ' '  Long  live  the  New 
Year." 

The  spirit  of  the  crowd  is  more  than,  and 
is  different  from,  the  spirits  of  all  of  the  in- 
dividual people  who  compose  it.     It  is  not  an 

11 


12  SOCIAL  SANITY 

aggregation  of  individual  spirits,  but  a  creation, 
a  new  being, — the  group  spirit.  One  who  has  sat 
under  the  spell  of  a  great  orator,  who  has  seen 
him  face  a  hostile  audience,  soothe  their  irri- 
tation, laugh  away  their  enthusiasm  for  some 
cause,  gradually  identify  himself  with  that 
cause,  and  then,  by  a  rapid  sweep  of  rhetoric, 
place  things  for  which  he  is  contending  at  the 
forefront  of  the  cause  in  which  the  audience 
has  been  believing,  has  witnessed  a  typical  dis- 
play of  social  psychology  in  its  most  primitive 
form.  The  words  which  Shakespeare  makes 
Mark  Antony  address  to  the  Romans  show  a 
keen  insight  into  the  psychology  of  an  excited 
crowd.  Mark  Antony  began  by  praising  the 
conspirators,  and  ended  by  sending  the  mob 
to  burn  their  houses.  Meanwhile  he  had  made 
the  cause  for  which  he  stood  a  common  cause. 
He  had  swept  his  deft  fingers  over  the  heart- 
strings of  his  audience,  readily  converting  the 
emotions  which  he  aroused  into  a  demonstra- 
tion of  ferocious  hatred.  After  calming  the 
anger  of  the  crowd,  Mark  Antony  stepped  down 
to  the  hearse  in  which  Caesar's  body  lay,  with 
the  words  "  If  you  have  tears,  prepare  to 
shed  them  now. ' '  He  showed  the  mantle  which 
Caesar  had  first  worn  on  the  day  of  a  great 
victory;  showed  the  rent  made  in  it  by  the 
daggers  of  the  conspirators;  showed  the  place 
where  Caesar's  blood  rushed  out  of  doors  to 
see  whether  Brutus  *'  so  unkindly  knocked,  or 


INTRODUCTION  13 

no  ";  and  at  last  showed  the  body  *'  marred 
with  traitors."  "  0,  now  you  weep,"  he  says, 
''  and  I  perceive  you  feel  the  dint  of  pity; 
these  are  precious  drops."  At  that  point  Mark 
Antony  had  won  the  day.  The  tear  stain  is 
next  of  kin  to  the  blood  stain,  and  Mark  An- 
tony was  reckoning  on  that  fact. 

In  its  elementary  form,  social  psychology  is 
based  on  the  emotional  side  of  human  nature. 
Crowds  are  won  through  smiles,  tears,  yearn- 
ings, beliefs. 

With  the  spread  of  education  the  aspect  of 
crowd  psychology  has  changed  radically.  The 
newspaper,  and  the  magazine,  the  easily  ob- 
tained, readable  books  and  pamphlets  which 
are  so  widely  circulated  through  private  sources 
and  in  libraries,  have  enabled  men  in  the  re- 
motest parts  of  the  country  to  keep  in  touch 
with  the  latest  event  and  the  newest  idea. 
Before  such  people  attend  a  meeting,  they  have 
thought,  and  discussed  the  subject  in  many  of 
its  aspects ;  hence  the  modern  orator  must  needs 
have  more  than  a  bare  emotional  appeal  if  he 
would  win  support.  Even  among  those  who 
do  not  or  who  cannot  read  has  gone  an  agita- 
tion for  social  reform,  in  one  of  its  many  guises, 
impelling  their  intelligence,  compelling  their 
thought.  As  knowledge  of  facts  and  ideas 
has  been  universalized,  the  appeal  to  men's 
minds  must  be  likewise  universalized,  hence 
the  crowd  psychology  of  the  emotional  town 


14  SOCIAL  SANITY 

meeting  house  is  transformed  into  the  in- 
tellectual social  psychology  of  towns,  states, 
and  nations. 

To  be  sure,  a  species  of  provincial  psychology 
still  manifests  itself.  The  New  Yorker  returns 
home  with  the  story  of  spending  a  week  in 
Philadelphia  the  day  before  yesterday;  the 
Pittsburger  works  madly  with  the  Chicagoan, 
from  early  morning  until  late  at  night,  to  ac- 
complish he  knows  not  what ;  in  Cleveland,  civic 
spirit  conquers  a  seemingly  impossible  traction 
situation,  communicating,  meanwhile,  its  en- 
thusiasm to  Cincinnati;  the  Wisconsin  spirit 
burns  strong  in  the  breast  of  her  statesmen, 
who  believe  in  keeping  pre-election  pledges 
after  they  have  once  been  made ;  and  Bostonians 
regard  with  an  air  of  infinite  satisfaction  the 
institutions  of  Boston.  Yet  there  are  not  want- 
ing many  signs  of  change,  even  in  the  most 
settled  of  these  ideas.  The  Wisconsin  idea  in- 
fused into  the  United  States  Senate,  in  the  form 
of  one  of  its  leading  exponents,  has  revivified 
and  purged  that  body,  mightily;  the  spirit  of 
hurry  is  giving  way  to  a  recognition  of  the 
relative  values  in  life;  provincialism  is  on  the 
wane;  and  the  traveler  looking  through  the 
window  of  the  sleeper  in  the  gray  of  the  early 
morning  is  greeted  everywhere  by  the  same 
fantastic  advertising  signs,  and  the  same  cut 
of  Chicago-made  clothes.  The  same  fruits  and 
cereals  appear  on  the  breakfast  table  too,  and 


INTRODUCTION  15 

waiters  of  the  same  race  are  equally  obsequious 
under  the  stress  of  anticipation. 

The  social  mind,  the  public  conscience,  public 
opinion, — call  it  what  you  will, — has  a  more 
intelligent  foundation  and  wider  reach  with 
each  setting  sun.  Moreover,  as  it  becomes  more 
cosmopolitan,  it  becomes  more  elastic  and  tol- 
erant. 

Let  no  one  suppose  that  the  mind  of  the 
Roman  mob,  or  of  any  similar  group,  is  either 
elastic  or  tolerant.  From  the  very  nature  of 
its  composition,  it  has  no  basis  for  either  qual- 
ity. Swayed  with  every  wind  of  doctrine,  it 
is  the  apotheosis  of  spineless  bigotry. 

Any  crowd  which  assembles  to  be  spellbound 
by  a  past-master  of  oratorical  chicanery  can 
be  swept  from  its  feet  and  led  to  lengths  of 
which  its  members  little  dreamed.  It  is  from 
the  citizen,  conning  the  paper  by  the  fire  of  an 
evening,  or  wrangling  with  his  boon  companions 
over  a  political  or  economic  issue,  that  sane 
judgments  may  be  expected.  Could  the  popu- 
lation of  the  United  States  be  assembled  in  one 
convention,  it  might  be  led  to  any  lengths  of 
irrational  decision  and  conduct.  Spread  over 
wide  areas,  learning  the  issues  of  the  day  in- 
dividually, or  in  small  knots,  the  public  aban- 
dons the  narrow,  emotional  psychology  of  the 
mob,  and  adopts,  instead,  the  intellectual  co- 
ordinated public  opinion,  bearing  all  the  ear- 
marks of  careful  thought  and  sound  judgment. 


16  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Social  psychology  in  the  United  States  appears 
in  the  form  of  a  public  opinion  whose  impulse 
is  guided  by  reason. 

Nowhere,  perhaps,  has  the  quality  of  Ameri- 
can public  opinion  been  better  revealed  than 
in  the  present  campaign  against  unfairness  and 
dishonesty.  From  railroad  magnate  and  dive 
keeper  alike,  the  public  is  demanding  square 
treatment.  Oj^en,  frank,  plain  dealing  has  also 
been  the  rule  of  business.  The  grafter  must 
go!  There  is  no  longer  a  place  for  him  any- 
where in  the  organization  of  pubhc  life.  Hon- 
esty is  being  enthroned, — an  attitude  which 
bodes  well  for  the  future,  since  it  reveals  the 
possibility  of  intelligent,  sane  group  action.  It 
is  a  long  step  from  the  Roman  mob,  venting  its 
fury  with  sword  and  brand,  to  the  American 
citizenry,  presenting  their  mandates  at  the 
polls. 

The  modern  molder  of  progress  may  work 
with  tools  far  superior  to  any  known  in  the 
past.  General  intelligence  he  has,  backed  as 
it  usually  is  by  a  virile  enthusiasm  and  a  reso- 
lute belief  in  the  future,  which  leads  ine\atably 
from  retrospection  to  outlook.  Granted  that 
these  things  be  true,  or  reasonably  true,  they 
may  be  applied  readily  enough  to  a  discussion 
of  social  sanity. 

There  is  a  vast  body  of  classified  knowledge 
relating  to  insanity,  but  it  is  as  difficult  to  in- 
terest scientists  in  sanity  as  it  is  to  interest 


INTRODUCTION  17 

pedagogues  in  normal  children.  No  limit  of 
funds  and  infinite  pains  are  available  for  the 
insane  person  or  the  sub-normal  child,  but  for 
the  sane  person  or  the  normal  child  it  is  fre- 
quently difficult  to  secure  either  sympathy  or 
attention.  Nevertheless  since  the  normal  is 
the  only  sure  basis  for  progress,  it  behooves 
us  to  see  to  it  that  the  normal  things  in  life 
receive  due  consideration. 

A  sane,  healthy,  sound,  or  normal  man  is  one 
who  displays  the  typical  qualities  of  mankind; 
who  possesses  the  type  attributes,  and  acts  in 
the  type  manner.  The  phrase,  "  Oh,  he's 
crazy,"  is  used  to  describe  a  person  who  has 
departed,  to  any  considerable  extent,  from  con- 
ventional standards;  who,  in  other  words,  is 
not  acting  as  people  ordinarily  act.  When 
Judge  Brack  cries  out,  after  Hedda's  suicide, 
*'  Good  God!  People  don't  do  such  things!  " 
he  is  giving  vent  to  the  conventional  viewpoint. 
He  might  have  put  the  matter  concisely  by  say- 
ing, "  Good  God,  she's  crazy!  "  The  sane  man 
is  the  man  who  does  the  things  that  people  are 
ordinarily  expected  to  do.  Any  radical  de- 
parture from  this  standard  is  non-sane  or  non- 
sense. Even  those  departures  which  are  made 
by  geniuses  are  described  as  insane  until  the 
crowd  learns  the  viewpoint  that  prompted  the 
action.  Sanity,  as  the  word  is  ordinarily  em- 
ployed, consists  in  an  attitude  of  mind  which 
prompts  the  individual  to  follow  such  generally 


18  SOCIAL  SANITY 

approved  lines  of  action  as  will  enable  men  to 
fulfill  their  desires.  Using  the  broad  generali- 
zation that  the  two  fundamental  desires  of 
mankind  are  for  self-preservation  and  for  self- 
perpetuation,  it  may  be  said  that  sanity  is  evi- 
denced by  those  acts  which  will  best  guarantee 
the  fulfillment  of  these  desires;  whereas  in- 
sanity is  a  condition  of  unsoundness,  a  tendency 
away  from  the  things  that  make  for  self-pres- 
ervation and  self-perpetuation.  Whereupon, 
sanity  appears  as  a  purely  relative  term,  con- 
noting only  the  degree  of  removal  from  a  state 
which  insures  the  most  complete  self-preserva- 
tion and  self-perpetuation. 

Society,  like  the  individual,  lives.  Although 
the  analogy  between  an  individual  and  society 
may  not  be  in  all  ways  fortunate,  the  fact  re- 
mains that  society  is  an  organism,  and  that  the 
social  mind  is  prone  to  abnormality  as  is  the 
individual  mind.  Such  pathological  conditions 
as  are  clearly  revealed  in  the  decadent  epochs 
of  past  civilizations,  might  be  described  as  so- 
cial insanity,  without  any  violence  to  language. 
Then  to  extend  the  analogy  to  normal  condi- 
tions, social  sanity  would  appear  as  that  state 
of  the  social  mind  which  would  assure  the  pres- 
ervation and  perpetuation  of  society. 

Accepting  for  the  sake  of  argument  this  idea 
of  sanity,  it  becomes  at  once  apparent  that  so- 
ciety may  do  itself  violence  by  taking  an  insane 
attitude,  or  may  assure  social  advance  by  choos- 


INTRODUCTION  19 

ing  sanely.    Hence  the  vital  importance  of  so- 
cial sanity. 

Before  attempting  to  measure  the  sanity  of 
some  modern  social  tendencies,  it  may  be  well 
to  emphasize  certain  principles  of  social  action 
which  are  related  to  the  question  of  social  san- 
ity. In  the  first  place,  since  social  sanity  is 
that  state  of  the  public  mind  which  will  lead 
to  a  form  of  action  that  will  best  insure  the 
self-preservation  and  self -perpetuation  of  soci- 
ety, a  democracy,  in  which  the  interests  of  the 
majority  are  dominant,  will,  if  it  be  acting 
sanely,  devote  its  energies  to  conserving  major- 
ity welfare,  no  matter  what  hardships  such  ac- 
tions may  impose  upon  the  minority.  This  rule 
is  obviously  subject  always  to  the  law  that  an 
abuse  of  power  by  a  democratic  majority  in- 
evitably leads  to  its  overthrow  by  the  opposing 
minority,  which  becomes  in  its  turn  the  major- 
ity, and  is  subject  to  similar  limitations.  The 
sane  actions  of  a  democratic  society  would 
therefore  be  those  actions  which  were  directed 
toward  satisfying  the  wants  and  supplying  the 
needs  of  the  majority.  At  the  same  time,  in 
order  to  insure  social  stability,  the  majority 
will  adopt  those  measures  which  afford  a  max- 
imum advantage  to  the  majority,  while  at  the 
same  time  they  inflict  a  minimum  of  hardship 
on  the  minority.  Acting  thus,  the  democratic 
majority  will  insure  the  greatest  present  wel- 
|are  and  the  soundest  future  for  society. 


20  SOCIAL  SANITY 

The  importance,  to  a  troubled,  questioning, 
partially  disillusioned,  unrestful,  discontented 
age,  of  realizing  that  a  society  with  an  unbal- 
anced mind  (public  opinion)  may  be  as  danger- 
ous to  itself  as  an  individual  with  an  unbalanced 
mind,  can  scarcely  be  over-emphasized.  The 
church,  the  industrial  system,  the  institutions 
of  representative  government,  the  system  of 
education,  and  the  present  type  of  family,  have 
all  been  made  the  object  of  recent  criticism. 
This  generation  will  without  question  be  called 
upon  to  determine  the  character  of  some  of 
the  changes  which  will  be  made  in  these  insti- 
tutions. What  principles  shall  govern  their 
decisions?  Is  the  path  leading  toward  social 
betterment  plainly  marked?  Certain  things  at 
least  may  be  taken  for  granted.  First,  the 
facts,  in  so  far  as  they  are  available,  must  be 
ascertained ;  second,  they  must  be  made  a  part 
of  public  knowledge;  and  third,  society  must 
act  in  such  a  manner  that  the  welfare  of  the 
majority  is  insured,  while  that  of  the  minority, 
wherever  possible,  is  conserved.  Careful  in- 
quiry, through  publicity  and  sane  social  action, 
— on  these  three  foundation  stones  the  struc- 
ture of  a  sound  social  progress  may  be  erected. 


THE  LIFE  STREAM 

On  some  well-remembered  day  you  may,  per- 
haps, have  sat  beside  a  brook,  watching  the 
brown  waters  of  late  October  hurrying  along, 
with  here  a  flake  of  foam,  and  there  a  clump 
of  birch  leaves,  swept  down  by  the  current. 
Each  moment  the  appearance  of  the  water 
changed.  Each  new  aspect  was  more  fascinat- 
ing than  the  last.  You  bent,  spellbound,  over 
the  brown  rock,  weaving  fancies  with  the  glid- 
ing movements  of  the  brook,  whose  troubled 
current  was  ever  passing,  passing, — framing 
pictures,  gurgling  songs,  whispering  poetry, 
telling  tales.  Sitting  there,  forgetful  of  your- 
self and  of  the  world,  your  being  flowed  on 
with  turbulent  free-moving  water  and  your  soul 
joined  with  that  other.  For  an  instant,  recog- 
nizing the  kinship,  you  became  again  what  you 
were  as  a  child, — an  unconscious  drop  in  the 
great  eddying  life  stream  of  the  universe. 

Not  alone  in  the  October  brook  does  the  world 
move  forward.  Not  alone  in  changing  water 
forms  is  the  transformation  of  the  universe  de- 
picted. On  every  hand  lie  evidences  of  the 
potency  of  change, — each  new  day,  and  each 

21 


22  SOCIAL  SANITY 

new  deed  are  tributes  to  its  omnipresent  power. 

Last  spring  we  made  a  garden,  partly  be- 
cause fresh  vegetables  are  very  delicious,  partly 
because  they  are  hard  to  buy,  and  partly — I  sus- 
pect mostly — because  we  loved  to  see  things 
which  were  our  own,  grown  from  seed  to  fruit. 
We  planned  the  garden  and  prepared  the 
soil  with  the  utmost  care.  Smooth  quick-grow- 
ing peas  went  in  early  in  April  together  with 
radishes,  lettuce,  carrots,  beets,  and  potatoes. 
A  week  later  these  were  followed  by  stringless 
green  beans  and  the  taller  wrinkled  peas;  and 
in  another  fortnight  by  cantaloupes,  early  corn, 
and  lima  beans.  Last  of  all  tomato  plants, 
egg-plants,  late  corn,  and  bush  lima  beans  com- 
pleted the  crops.  By  that  time  it  was  the  middle 
of  May. 

The  month  of  April,  in  the  neighborhood  of 
this  garden,  was  a  sad,  tearful  month,  remind- 
ing one  of  the  reply  which  the  driver  in  a 
Scotch  Highland  coach  made  to  a  passenger 
who,  after  a  week  of  drizzling  Scotch  weather, 
was  making  unsuccessful  efforts  to  dodge  the 
drops  from  two  umbrellas. 

"  Does  it  always  rain  here?  "  groaned  the 
passenger. 

"  No,  sir,"  answered  the  driver,  "  sometimes 
it  snaws." 

If  there  were  any  days  in  this  particular 
month  of  April  when  it  did  not  either  rain  or 
snow,  the  sun  may  have  shone,  but  they  were 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  23 

so  few  as  to  be  easily  forgotten.  The  sun  re- 
mained sulky  until  the  middle  of  May,  then, 
bursting  out  of  the  six-weeks-old  cloud-bank, 
it  did  double  duty,  starting  that  part  of  the 
crop  which  had  survived  the  wet,  cold  weeks 
into  joyous  growth.  Early  beets  failed  to  come 
up,  lima  beans  and  early  corn  were  planted 
two  or  three  times  before  the  semblance  of  a 
stand  could  be  secured;  nevertheless,  by  the 
end  of  May,  there  really  was  a  garden,  filled 
with  gentle  shadings  of  green,  dotted  here  and 
there  with  the  red  of  a  beet  leaf  or  the  white 
of  a  pea  or  a  potato  flower. 

June,  having  no  inkling  of  April's  melan- 
choly, gave  long  hot  days  and  balmy  nights  to 
the  anxious  crops  and  added  a  glamor  to  coun- 
try life  which  soon  brought  city  visitors.  Some 
among  the  uninitiated  did  not  wake  up  to  the 
existence  of  the  garden  until  dinner  time,  but 
for  the  most  part  they  meted  out  warm  praise 
in  such  forms  as, — 

''  Isn't  it  wonderful!  " 

''  How  did  you  do  it?  " 

"  Hasn't  the  weather  been  perfect  for  gar- 
dens? " 

''  Where  did  you  get  such  beans?  " 

"  What  splendid  luck  you  have  had!  " 

Among  all  the  myriad  of  city  dwellers, 
scarcely  one  said, — ' '  I  see  that  nature  and  you 
have  been  at  work,"  because  scarcely  one  of 
them  realized  that,  during  the  drenching  rains 


24  SOCIAL  SANITY 

in  April,  when  it  was  next  to  impossible  to 
cultivate  and  keep  out  the  weeds,  only  the  most 
careful  attention  could  maintain  a  garden  at 
all.  Scarcely  one  of  them  understood  that  had 
May  followed  April's  example,  there  would  have 
been  no  crops.  To  them  the  garden  was  a  thing, 
a  creation,  a  being.  They  admired  it  as  they 
would  have  admired  a  piece  of  fine  china,  or 
a  new  suit,  or  a  landscape  in  the  alcove  of  some 
museum,  but  they  did  not  understand  it.  One 
of  them,  coming  a  second  time,  looked  at  the 
garden  in  amaze,  crying: 

*'  How  your  garden  has  changed!  " 

Yes,  it  had  changed,  otherwise  it  would  not 
have  been  a  garden. 

The  chiefest  thing  about  a  garden  is  the  fact 
of  its  change.  Look  at  it  to-day,  it  is  one 
garden ;  look  at  it  next  week,  and  it  is  another. 
More  than  that,  from  day  to  day — even  from 
hour  to  hour  and  from  minute  to  minute — the 
garden  changes  both  its  appearance  and  its 
form.  Look  at  it,  turn  your  back,  then  look 
again,  and  if  your  eyes  were  of  microscopic 
precision,  you  could  see  that  in  that  infini- 
tesimal space  of  time  the  garden  was  already 
a  different  place. 

Listen!  city-folk,  gardens  do  not  happen. 
They  are  not  built — Aladdin-like — in  a  single 
night.  They  grow.  They  become,  or  rather 
they  are  becoming,  a  process  which  alters  with 
each  advancing  unit  of  time. 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  25 

All  analogies  are  susceptible  of  abuse,  nor 
can  one  pretend  that  the  garden  analogy  is  an 
exception  to  that  general  rule,  yet  more  clearly 
than  the  voice  of  the  brook  it  tells  the  story 
of  the  life  stream,  for  the  whole  universe  and 
every  part  of  it  is  like  the  garden,  a  process 
of  transformation  from  the  thing  that  is  to  that 
which  is  to  be.  From  the  smallest  amoeba,  sub- 
dividing to  make  two  of  its  kind,  to  the  fearful 
chase  of  our  planetary  system  across  the 
heavens,  the  universe  is  undergoing  change. 
The  mushroom  shoots  in  a  night ;  the  oak  grows 
in  a  century;  the  sperm  cell  and  ovum  uniting 
produce  a  snake,  or  a  turtle,  or  a  frog,  or  a 
brown  thrush  as  the  case  may  be;  the  little 
creature  fresh  from  the  egg  grows  up  and  in 
its  turn  helps  to  form  new  life ;  the  desert  sands 
shift  with  the  wind;  the  mountains,  yielding  to 
the  onslaughts  of  the  water  drops,  flatten  them- 
selves into  plains.  The  springs  empty  their  tiny 
rivulets  into  vast  oceans,  which,  rolling  inces- 
santly against  the  shore,  are  building  or  tear- 
ing down;  the  antelope  crushes  the  succulent 
grass  against  its  flat  grinders;  the  tiger  springs 
and  the  antelope  has  perished;  the  mosquito 
hums  his  song  of  a  day;  and  man  is  born  and 
lives  and  at  threescore  and  ten  renders  up 
the  ghost.  With  what  fidelity  does  William 
Cullen  Bryant  picture  these  changes  among 
men: — 


26  SOCIAL  SANITY 

"  Yet  a  few  days,  and  thee 
The  all-beholding  sun  shall  see  no  more 
In  all  his  course/' 

^'  Earth,  that  nourished  thee,  shall  claim 
Thy  growth,  to  he  resolved  to  earth  again." 
"  The  gay  ivill  laugh  when  thou  art  gone, 
The  solemn  brood  of  care 
Plod  on,  and  each  one  as  before  will  chase 
His  favorite  phantom;  yet  all  these  shall 
leave 
Their  mirth  and  their  employments,  and  shall 
come 
And  make  their  bed  with  thee.'' 

The  universe,  like  the  garden,  is  a  process, — 
a  changing  thing.  Never  for  a  moment  does 
it  cease  its  tireless  transformations.  It  was, 
it  is,  it  will  be  different.  From  that  idea  has 
grown  up,  among  other  things,  the  philosophy 
of  evolution. 

The  time  has  passed  when  it  is  necessary  to 
apologize  for  believing  in  change.  The  work 
of  Darwin,  Wallace,  Spencer,  Huxley,  Haeckel, 
and  a  myriad  of  less  known  men  has  established 
beyond  cavil  the  principle  that  the  world  of 
biology  is  a  world  of  constant  progression. 
Spencer  compares  organic  evolution  to  the  de- 
velopment of  an  individual  organism.  ''  Each 
organism,"  he  writes,  "  exhibits,  within  a  short 
space  of  time,  a  series  of  changes  which,  when 
supposed  to  occupy  a  period  indefinitely  great, 


THE  LIFE  STEEAM  27 

and  to  go  on  in  various  ways  instead  of  one 
way,  give  us  a  tolerably  clear  conception  of 
organic  evolution  in  general."*  Elaborating 
the  same  idea,  Huxley  wrote  in  Ms  usual  virile 
English:  "  The  hypothesis  of  evolution  sup- 
poses that  in  all  this  vast  progression  there 
would  be  no  breach  of  continuity,  no  point  at 
which  we  could  say, '  This  is  a  natural  process,' 
and  '  This  is  not  a  natural  process  ';  but  that 
the  whole  might  be  compared  to  that  wonderful 
process  of  development  which  may  be  seen  go- 
ing on  every  day  under  our  eyes,  in  virtue  of 
which  there  arises,  out  of  the  semi-fluid,  com- 
paratively homogeneous  substance  which  we 
call  an  egg,  the  complicated  organism  of  one 
of  the  higher  animals.  That,  in  a  few  words, 
is  what  is  meant  by  the  hypothesis  of  evolu- 
tion." t 

The  idea  of  change — of  evolution  if  you  will — 
sounds  the  keynote  of  modern  thought.  The 
field  of  biology,  presenting  boundless  oppor- 
tunity for  laboratory  study,  has  yielded  the 
most  concrete,  satisfying  testimony  regarding 
the  character  of  those  changes  which  seem  to 
be  an  attribute  of  the  whole  universe.  J.  A. 
Thomson  writes  in  his  brilliant  popularization 
of  modern  biologic  theory: — 

*  "  Principles  of  Biology,"  H.  Spencer.  New  York;.  D.  Apple- 
ton  &  Co.,  1897.     Vol.  I,  p.  349. 

\  "  American  Addresses,"  T.  Huxley.  London  :  Macmillan  & 
Co.,  1877.     Pp.  10, 11. 


28  SOCIAL  SANITY 

II  There  is  an  intricate,  beautiful,  rational 
pattern  before  us  in  nature;  are  we  to  think 
of  it  as  woven,  thread  by  thread,  by  invisible 
hands  in  a  way  past  finding  out  scientifically; 
or  was  there  so  much  mind  put  into  the  original 
institution  of  things — an  apparently  simple 
loom — that  thenceforth  the  web  has  been  worked 
out  automatically  in  a  manner  that  admits  of 
scientific  formulation?  .  .  .  It  is  a  simple  but 
eloquent  fact  that  the  genealogical  record  in 
the  fossil-bearing  rocks  shows  the  gradual  ap- 
pearance of  higher  and  higher  forms.  At  a 
certain  stage  in  the  history  of  the  earth  all  the 
animals  were  invertebrates;  then  fishes  ap- 
peared, then  amphibians,  then  reptiles,  then 
birds  and  mammals.  As  the  ages  have  passed, 
life  has  been  slowly  creeping  upwards.  The 
rock-record  corresponds  in  its  sequences  with 
those  deducible  from  comparative  anatomy  and 
embryology.  .  .  .  What  can  be  securely  said 
is  this,  that  all  biological  facts  can  be  used  as 
evidence  of  evolution  if  we  know  enough  about 
them,  and  there  are  no  biological  facts  which 
are  inconsistent  with  it,  so  far  as  we  know."  * 

The  animate  world  undergoes  constant 
change.  Individual  organisms  develop.  In  the 
last  analysis,  the  whole  realm  of  biology  is  a 
complex  process  of  continual  change. 

Although  it  is  in  the  field  of  biology  that  the 

*  "  Darwinism  and  Human  Life,"  J.  A.  Thomson.  New  York : 
Henry  Holt  &  Co.,  1910.     Pp.  19-26. 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  29 

most  effective  work,  experimental  and  deduc- 
tive alike,  has  been  carried  on,  the  principle 
of  evolution  is  applicable  not  alone  to  things 
biologic.  There  is  every  reason  to  believe  that 
the  institutions  of  human  society,  like  the  in- 
dividual beings  in  the  biologic  world,  are  under- 
going constant  modifications.  Consider,  for  ex- 
ample, the  family, — perhaps  the  oldest  of  social 
institutions.  All  available  facts  point  to  the 
conclusion  that  the  family  has  undergone  radical 
modifications  through  the  ages.  Even  those 
who  deny  the  evolutionary  principle  on  the  basis 
of  Christian  teachings  will  find  in  the  Bible  the 
very  clearest  evidences  of  family  change.  The 
patriarchal  family  under  Jacob,  with  his  numer- 
ous slave-wives  and  wife-slaves,  would  scarcely 
be  regarded  as  a  model  to-day.  Solomon's  con- 
jugal relations  could  not  now  be  made  a  matter 
of  discussion  except  among  scandalmongers, 
yet  Solomon  was  the  blessed  of  the  Lord.  A 
great  gulf  exists  between  the  crude  family  forms 
of  the  old  Hebrews  and  the  family  existing  to- 
day; yet  the  Hebrews  were  a  civilized  people. 
Go  back  of  them  to  the  barbarians  and  back 
of  them  again  to  the  savages,  and  observe  the 
marked  difference  in  the  relations  of  men  and 
women.  In  his  painstaking  work  on  "  The 
Evolution  of  the  Family,"  Letourneau  writes : — 
**  In  a  remarkable  book,  which  has  not  yet  had 
all  the  success  it  deserves,  Lewis  Morgan  be- 
lieves he  has  recognized  five  stages  in  the  evo- 


30  SOCIAL  SANITY 

lution  of  the  family:  1st,  the  family  is  consan- 
guineous— that  is  to  say,  founded  on  the  mar- 
riage of  brothers  and  sisters  of  a  group;  2nd, 
several  brothers  are  the  common  husbands  of 
their  wives,  who  are  not  sisters;  3rd,  a  man 
and  woman  unite,  but  without  exclusive  co- 
habitation, and  with  facility  of  divorce  for  one 
or  the  other ;  4th,  then  comes  the  pastoral  family 
of  the  Hebrews,  the  marriage  of  one  man  with 
several  women;  but  this  patriarchal  form  has 
not  been  universal;  5th,  at  last  appeared  the 
family  of  civilized  societies,  the  most  modern, 
characterized  by  the  exclusive  cohabitation  of 
one  man  and  one  woman.  Not  taking  this  clas- 
sification too  literally,  and  reserving  a  place  for 
varieties  and  exceptions,  we  have  here  five 
stages  which  mark  tolerably  well  the  evolution 
of  the  family  in  humanity. ' '  * 

The  best  known  and  by  far  the  most  accessible 
of  discussions  on  the  evolution  of  the  family 
exists  in  the  Old  Testament.  There  are  set 
down,  in  great  detail,  the  marriage  customs  of 
the  Hebrews.  Under  the  patriarchs,  the  family 
was  avowedly  polygamous, — there  was  one  man, 
with  many  wives.  As  the  civilization  developed, 
the  prophets  and  teachers  began  to  discourage 
this  form  of  union,  until,  in  the  teachings  of 
the  New  Testament,  there  stands  clearly  out 


*"  The  Evolution  of  Marriage  and  of  the  Family,"  Ch.   Le- 
tourneau.    New  York:  Charles  Scribner's  Sons,  1904.    P.  347, 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  31 

the  modern  form  of  monogamy,  the  exclusive 
cohabitation  of  one  man  with  one  woman. 

Walter  Rauschenbusch,  writing  from  the  pre- 
cincts of  a  theological  seminary,  depicts  the 
change  by  imagining  that,  in  the  year  4000  b.c. 
a  Syrian  village  had  fallen  asleep,  and  was 
awakened  to  life  to-day.  The  people  take  np 
the  affairs  where  they  left  them,  discussing  the 
social  unrest,  and  its  dangers  to  their  civiliza- 
tion, when  they  are  interrupted  by  the  pastor 
of  "  a  staid  Pennsylvania  town  "  "  who  prides 
himself  on  being  untainted  by  radical  social 
notions."  After  listening  to  their  tales  of  woe, 
he  expounds  the  orthodox  conception  of  the 
American  family  as  the  true  solution,  "  advis- 
ing them  to  treat  the  wives  as  their  equals,  to 
live  for  their  children,  and  to  give  the  servants 
one  night  off  per  week. ' '  Patiently  they  explain 
to  the  stranger  "  that  his  views  are  Utopian; 
that  authority  would  be  undermined  if  a 
man  could  not  beat  his  wife  ";  "  that  polygamy 
is  an  index  of  high  morality,  since  the  best  citi- 
zens have  the  most  wives,  and  you  would  have 
to  change  human  nature  to  make  monogamy 
compulsory;  that  slaves  would  have  nothing  to 
eat  if  they  had  no  masters  to  feed  and  employ 
them,  that  a  father,  being  the  author  of  a  child's 
life,  has  a  right  to  take  its  life  if  he  considers 
it  superfluous.  The  American,  aglow  with 
Christian  indignation,  describes  how  wisely  his 
wife  manages  the  common  finances  and  selects 


32  SOCIAL  SANITY 

his  neckties ;  how  he  sends  his  girls  to  Vassar  " ; 
and  how  he  would  hate  himself  if  his  family- 
regarded  him  as  a  tyrant.  ' '  But  he  sees  dark 
frowns  gathering  on  the  faces  and  ominous 
whisperings  running  about.  He  pales  as  he 
hears  the  ancient  Hittite  equivalent  for 
'  .socialist  and  anarchist  '  applied  to  him- 
self."* 

Whatever  the  field  of  study,  the  conclusion 
is  ever  the  same.  The  family  has  changed  dur- 
ing historic  times.  Under  the  impetus  of  an 
evolutionary  process  called  civilization  the  loose 
conjugal  relations  of  primitive  society  have  been 
gradually  replaced  by  the  more  binding  forms 
of  modern  social  relations. 

No  social  institution  is  exempt  from  this  law. 
The  present  idea  of  private  property  is  accepted 
as  an  established  fact,  men  and  women  take  its 
presence  for  granted,  as  they  do  the  presence 
of  any  common  social  usage.  Yet  the  modern 
idea  of  property  has  developed  in  comparatively 
recent  times.  Only  in  those  countries  which 
are  under  the  sway  of  Western  civilization  is 
the  current  idea  of  property  accepted.  Among 
the  tribes  at  present  on  the  earth  may  be  found 
every  practice  from  the  most  complete  commu- 
nism to  the  most  utter  individualism,  though 
the  communistic  forms  of  property  are  far  more 


*"  Christianizing  the  Social  Order,"  Walter  Rauschenbusch. 
New  York:  The  Macmillan  Co.,  1912.     Pp.  132-133. 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  33 

common.  Like  every  other  social  usage  the 
modern  ideas  of  property  have  grown. 

In  his  series  of  daring  essays  on  the  "  Evo- 
lution of  Property,"  Laf argue  traces  the  prop- 
erty idea  through  its  various  phases  of  primitive 
communism,  family  collectivism,  and  feudal 
property,  to  the  present  forms  of  bourgeois 
property.  While  there  may  still  be  some  ques- 
tion regarding  the  exact  limitations  of  La- 
f argue 's  classifications,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  the  contrast  between  feudal  property,  held 
"  for  God  and  the  king,"  and  modern  private 
property,  demised  "  to  him  and  his  heirs  for- 
ever," is  a  fundamental  one.  The  king  is  no 
longer  regarded  as  the  liege-lord;  the  church 
has  lost  the  power  which  once  permitted  her 
to  dominate  property  transactions.  The  law 
alone  now  sanctions  while  the  property  passes 
from  man  to  man. 

Letourneau  summarizes  his  scholarly  work 
on  property  with  this  statement — "  At  first 
they  [property  rights]  were  born  and  devel- 
oped beneath  the  shelter  of  the  communal  clan, 
then  of  the  village  community,  guaranteeing  all 
its  members  against  abandonment,  but  permit- 
ting no  one  to  monopolize  what  belonged  to  all. 
Under  such  a  system  population  everywhere 
abounds;  the  increase  is  enormous,  and  gener- 
ally it  overflows  into  neighboring  countries.  In 
Russia,  for  example,  the  system  of  the  mir  im- 
pels to  marriage  and  is  opposed  to  Malthusian- 


34  SOCIAL  SANITY 

ism,  because  eacli  family  has  a  right  to  a  larger 
portion  of  land  the  larger  the  number  of  work- 
ers it  contains,  and  the  most  numerous  family 
is  in  consequence  the  richest.  As  security 
increased,  property  has  become  more  individual 
and  movable,  and  there  has  been  formed  what 
economists  call  '  capital, '  that  is  to  say,  a  mass 
of  accumulable  values  representing  work."  * 

As  in  the  case  of  the  family,  so  in  the  case 
of  property,  the  records  of  history  show  changes 
of  the  most  fundamental  nature.  Perhaps  these 
social  institutions,  their  origin  shrouded  in  the 
"  dim  mysterious  past,"  may  not  prove  con- 
vincing arguments  in  favor  of  the  principle  of 
social  evolution.  Turn  then  to  an  evolution  that 
has  gone  on  under  the  eyes  of  your  father,  or 
if  you  are  very  young,  of  your  grandfather. 
Study  the  transformations  wrought  in  the 
course  of  three  short  generations  by  the  forces 
of  modern  industry,  and  be  convinced  of  the 
wonders  of  social  changes. 

As  late  as  1850,  in  a  now  prosperous  section 
of  New  York  State,  the  farmer's  boy  rose  with 
the  dawn,  hitched  a  team  of  oxen  to  a  wagon 
loaded  with  sacks  of  wlieat,  and  started  for 
the  mill.  All  of  that  day  he  traveled,  and  in 
the  late  afternoon  reached  a  town  in  which  there 
was  a  mill.     The  next  day  the  miller,  a  long, 

*  "Property;  Its  Origin  and  Development,"  Ch.  Letourreau. 
London  :  Walter  Scott,  1901.     Pp.  369,  370. 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  35 

pale  man,  poured  tliis  wheat  into  his  hopper, 
taking  as  his  toll  one  bag  in  every  four,  and  the 
farmer's  boy,  loading  the  flour  into  his  wagon, 
made  ready  for  an  early  start  the  next  day. 
By  nightfall  he  was  at  home  again  with  his 
wheat  transformed  into  flour.  Then  his  mother, 
making  her  own  yeast  and  potato  water, 
kneaded  and  set  her  bread  over  night,  and  in 
the  morning  the  boy  built  a  hot  fire  in  the  old 
stone  oven,  heated  the  stones  well,  raked  out  the 
fire,  and  put  the  bread  in  its  place  to  be  baked. 

How  different  the  process  to-day !  The  wheat 
carried  in  a  freight  car  from  Dakota  to  Min- 
neapolis is  converted  into  flour  and  shipped  by 
rail  to  Buffalo.  There  it  goes  to  a  baker,  is 
tested,  and  turned  into  a  machine  which  auto- 
matically measures  the  proper  quantities  of  the 
various  ingredients,  mixes  them,  kneads  them, 
divides  them  into  loaves,  and  delivers  them  to 
the  oven.  In  one  day  this  child  of  human  in- 
genuity makes  fifty  thousand  loaves  of  bread. 
It  is  tended  by  five  boys  who  merely  watch  the 
machine  to  see  that  all  goes  right.  The  reaper, 
the  thresher,  the  elevator,  the  railroad,  the 
power  mill — all  of  these,  and  all  of  the  thou- 
sands of  tools  and  appliances  which  make  them 
possible — are  the  product  of  half  a  century. 
During  the  progress  of  an  ordinary  life,  the 
whole  world  of  industry  has  been  transformed 
through  the  process  of  industrial  evolution. 

Nothing  is  exempt  from  its  sway.    The  nails^ 


36  SOCIAL  SANITY 

boards,  shoes,  caps,  coats,  chairs,  carpets,  but- 
tons, wagon-wheels,  forks,  pocket-knives — all  of 
the  things  which  were  formerly  made  by  hand — 
are  now  factory  products.  Each  year  the  scope 
of  the  factory  widens  and  each  year  the  variety 
of  its  products  increases.  Industry  has  revo- 
lutionized society.  This  evolution  of  industry 
differs  from  the  evolution  of  other  social  in- 
stitutions only  in  this,  that  it  has  come  with 
great  rapidity  and  that  it  has  been  in  large 
measure  a  product  of  conscious  human  activity. 

Did  space  permit  illustrations  might  be  mul- 
tiplied. The  church,  the  school,  the  state,  and 
the  home  are  all  the  product  of  a  long  series 
of  changes,  definitely  traceable  through  the 
ages.  They  are  a  part  of  that  process  by 
which  barbarism  and  savagery  have  been  re- 
placed by  the  civilization  of  the  past  five  thou- 
sand years, — a  civilization  which  history  shows 
to  have  been  in  a  continual  state  of  evolution. 

Every  phase  of  the  mechanism  of  life  re- 
veals the  presence  of  changes.  "  The  central 
idea  of  evolution  is  that  the  present  is  the 
child  of  the  past  and  the  parent  of  the  future," 
writes  Thomson;  ''  it  is  the  idea  of  progressive 
change  from  phase  to  phase  without  loss  of 
continuity.  A  process  of  Becoming  leads  to  a 
new  phase  of  Being — whether  in  solar  systems 
or  in  social  institutions  or  in  living  creatures. 
But  in  the  first  the  continuity  is  sustained  in 
identity  of  substance,  in  the  second  by  tradition 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  37 

and  social  registration,  and  in  tlie  third  by  the 
hereditary  linkage  of  successive  generations." 

Ideas,  like  institutions,  have  developed  with 
the  passing  centuries.  Augmented,  here  a  little 
and  there  a  little,  they  present,  at  last,  the 
imposing  picture  reflected  in  modern  civiliza- 
tion. Summarizing  a  well-made  study  of  the 
development  of  society,  Morgan  writes,  ''  The 
latest  investigations  respecting  the  early  con- 
dition of  the  human  race,  are  tending  to  the 
conclusion  that  mankind  commenced  their 
career  at  the  bottom  of  the  scale  and  worked 
their  way  up  from  savagery  to  civilization 
through  the  slow  accumulation  of  experimental 
knowledge."  *  Ideas,  the  backbone  of  civiliza- 
tion, have  grown  like  all  else,  and  still  society 
moves  forward,  accumulating  knowledge  as  it 
goes. 

Up  to  a  certain  point  society  changed,  no 
man  knew  how  or  why.  Then  with  dawning 
intelligence,  man  took  upon  his  own  shoulders 
the  burden  of  altering  institutions,  in  exactly 
the  same  way  that  he  took  upon  himself  the 
burden  of  changing  plants  and  animals.  The 
race  horse,  the  cart  horse,  the  King  Charles, 
the  greyhound,  the  Jonathan  apple,  the  Hol- 
stein  cow,  the  lima  bean,  and  the  plum  tomato 
are  all  the  products  of  human  interference  with 
natural  processes.     The  facts  of  life  change. 

•"Ancient  Society,"  L.  H.  Morgan.  New  York:  Henry 
Holt  &  Co.     (First  ed.  1877.)    Edition  of  1907.     P.  3. 

208136 


38  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Hence  it  is  that  ideas,  founded  on  knowledge, 
are  as  much  subject  to  change  as  biologic  spe- 
cies. The  fervent  beliefs  of  one  era  are  brushed 
aside  by  the  skepticism  of  the  next.  Crusading 
ardor  gives  place  to  commercial  activity;  the 
slave  holding  agricultural  era  bows  before  the 
epoch  of  machine  controlling  freemen.  Here 
the  church  and  the  state  are  one ;  there  they  are 
as  far  apart  as  the  east  and  the  west — neither 
knowing  nor  caring  what  the  other  may  essay 
or  accomplish. 

The  spirit  of  the  West  is  a  spirit  of  changing 
ideas.  Holding  but  lightly  the  traditions  of 
the  past,  it  rejects  an  idea  as  soon  as  a  more 
serviceable  one  can  be  found  to  take  its  place. 
"  Edward  A.  Filene  of  Boston,  who  in  his  own 
large  establishment  has  put  many  advanced 
ideas  into  operation,  observes  that,  '  Ideas  go 
into  the  scrap  heap  about  as  often  as  machines,' 
and  it  is  a  mark  of  health  in  the  present  age 
that  it  shows  unusual  willingness  to  change 
both."* 

The  individual  is  as  much  subject  to  change 
as  is  society.  From  youth  to  old  age  ideas 
are  in  process  of  alteration.  It  is  as  unnatural 
to  find  in  youth  the  conservatism  of  old  age, 
as  it  is  to  find  in  age  the  radicalism  of  youth. 
Mr.  Stevenson  in  his  incisive  comments  on 
"  Crabbed  Age  and  Youth  "  sums  the  matter 

*  "  Industry  and  Progress,"  Norman  Hapgood.  New  Haven  : 
Yale  University  Press,  1911.     P.  33, 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  39 

up  by  saying,  '^  All  my  old  opinions  were  only 
stages  on  the  way  to  something  else."  But 
such  doctrines  are  the  apotheosis  of  inconsist- 
ency. Well,  and  what  of  that?  ''A  foolish 
consistency,"  cries  Emerson  scornfully,  ''  is 
the  hobgoblin  of  little  minds,  adored  by  little 
statesmen  and  philosophers  and  divines.  With 
consistency  a  great  soul  has  simply  nothing  to 
do.  He  may  as  well  concern  himself  with  his 
shadow  on  the  wall.  Out  upon  your  guarded 
lips !  Sew  them  up  with  pack-thread,  do.  Else, 
if  you  would  be  a  man,  speak  what  you  think 
to-day  in  words  as  hard  as  cannon-balls,  and 
what  to-morrow  tliinks  in  hard  words  again; 
though  it  contradict  everything  you  said  to- 
day." *  Those  who  oppose  the  idea  of  change 
in  form  or  thought  resemble  the  chairman  of 
a  recent  national  political  convention,  who,  as 
Mr.  Dooley  remarked,  was  '^  one  of  them  that 
would  like  to  make  the  temporary  organization 
of  the  world  permanent." 

Returning  for  a  moment  to  a  former  illus- 
tration, each  thing  in  our  garden  was  a  product 
of  human  selection.  The  weeds,  the  only  natu- 
ral things  which  made  an  appearance  there, 
were  ruthlessly  destroyed.  The  vegetables, 
man-made,  supernatural,  are  so  wholly  the 
product  of  human  activity  that  they  are  unable 
to  care  for  themselves.     Left  alone,  the  beet 

*  Essay  on  ' '  Self -Reliance. " 


40  SOCIAL  SANITY 

would  jDroduce  small  roots,  the  corn  would  shoot 
thin  and  yellow,  Man's  products  need  man's 
protection.  The  weeds  may  not  compete, — the 
plants  must  have  an  absolute  monopoly.  The 
spray-pump  must  not  stay  its  activities,  other- 
wise the  beetle  devours  the  cantaloupes,  the 
black-rot  ruins  the  tomatoes,  the  leaf-gall  afliicts 
the  grapes,  blights  and  rusts  attack  beans  and 
potatoes.  What  man  has  made  he  must  guard 
against  the  natural  afflictions  which  assail  each 
unnatural  product. 

The  same  principle  holds  true  in  the  case 
of  social  institutions.  Man  has  built  up  sys- 
tems of  government,  education,  and  industry. 
They  are  splendid  monuments  to  his  intellect, 
but  let  him  for  a  moment  relax  his  vigilance 
and  they  decay  as  did  the  earlier  civilizations 
of  the  East.  The  blights  and  rusts  of  idleness 
and  licentiousness  gain  a  foothold;  the  bacteria 
of  graft  germinate;  and  the  institutions  totter 
and  fall.  Eternal  vigilance  is  the  price  of  a 
civilization  as  it  is  of  a  garden.  What  man 
has  made,  man  must  protect  and  maintain. 

Social  institutions,  like  biologic  species,  are 
processes.  The  whole  universe  is  a  becoming. 
Even  while  we  turn  our  backs  and  look 
again,  it  has  changed  and  always  will  be 
changing. 

''  That  which  lies  beyond  the  human  race," 
writes  Huxley,  "  is  a  constant  struggle  to  main- 
tain and  improve,  in  opposition  to  the  State 


THE  LIFE  STREAM  41 

of  Nature,  the  State  of  Art,  of  an  organized 
polity,  in  which  and  by  which  man  may  develop 
a  worthy  civilization,  capable  of  maintaining 
and  constantly  improving  itself. ' '  * 

So  much  then  lies  in  the  life  stream,  which, 
whether  in  its  changing  species,  institutions, 
or  ideas,  is  an  exemplification  "  of  Nature's 
great  progression,  from  the  formless  to  the 
formed — from  the  unorganic  to  the  organic — 
from  blind  force  to  conscious  intellect  and 
will."t  The  time  never  has  been,  the  time 
can  never  be  when  the  question  before  men  is, 
''  Shall  we  change  or  shall  we  not  change?  " 
There  is  no  other  issue — no  other  possibility. 
Man  may  guide  the  stream  of  becoming — even 
though  he  may  not  stop  it.  He  cannot  change 
the  path  of  the  stars,  but  he  can  straighten 
the  streets  of  old  cities  and  build  the  streets 
of  new  ones  straight.  He  cannot  reshape  the 
earth,  but  he  can  so  renovate  his  social  system 
that  the  earth  will  be  a  better  dwelling-place 
for  his  children  than  it  has  been  for  him.  Man 
cannot  dictate,  but  he  can  counsel.  He  cannot 
create,  but  he  may  direct.  He  cannot  dam  the 
life  stream,  but  he  can  build  jetties  and  levees 
along  the  banks. 

Herein  lies  the  basis  of  the  problem  of  a 

♦"Evolution  and  Ethics,"  T.  H.  Huxley.  New  York:  D. 
Appleton  &  Co.,  1902.     P.  44. 

t" Man's  Place  in  Nature,"  T.  H.  Huxley.  New  York:  D. 
Appleton  &  Co.,  1903.    P.  151. 


42  SOCIAL  SANITY 

changing  universe,  a  changing  society,  a  chang- 
ing institution, — in  what  respects  can  man's 
conscious  actions  modify  those  changes  so  that 
they  make  the  world  a  better  dwelling-place 
for  him  and  for  his  children  1 


n 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE 


The  life  stream  is  understood  through  sci- 
ence— which  is  another  word  for  classified 
knowledge.  Always  the  life  stream  has  flowed 
on,  from  everlasting  to  everlasting,  but  man 
failed  to  grasp  its  meaning,  until,  by  the  use 
of  language,  of  story,  of  writing,  of  printing, 
of  tools  and  instruments,  he  gradually  collected 
a  body  of  knowledge  about  the  world  in  which 
he  lived.  Then  it  became  apparent  that  there 
were  great  laws  of  life  and  of  death, — princi- 
ples which  were  inherent  in  all  natural  phe- 
nomena. 

While  man  was  an  unthinking  being,  com- 
parable to  the  most  primitive  races  of  the 
present  day,  he  left  no  monument.  Each  gen- 
eration disappeared,  leaving  no  mark  of  its  pas- 
sage save  that  which  was  made  by  the  presence 
of  its  descendants.  Such  is  the  life  of  most 
animals.  Such  for  eons  of  time  must  have  been 
the  life  of  man. 

In  this  primitive  life,  nature,  so  careful  of 
the  race-stream,  so  apparently  careless  of  the 
single  being,  swept  generation  after  generation 

43 


44  SOCIAL  SANITY 

ruthlessly  aside,  as  a  child  might  build  block 
houses,  and,  tumbling  them  down,  rebuild  them 
again  day  after  day.  Yet  the  child  learns  by 
building,  making  each  new  castle  better  than 
its  predecessor.  So,  too,  in  nature's  building, 
each  new  generation  was  built  out  of  the  flower 
of  the  old,  since  the  fittest  survived  to  be  the 
parents  of  the  future.  As  the  ages  passed,  it 
became  apparent  that  the  fittest  was  an  in- 
dividual organism,  in  a  very  advanced  stage  of 
development, — an  individual  who  should  ulti- 
mately be  put  before  the  race  to  which  he  be- 
longed. 

At  first  this  individual  was  one  select  indi- 
vidual— the  chief,  or  patriarch,  whose  life 
counted  for  more  than  the  life  of  the  whole 
clan  or  family.  For  all  men  this  life  was  sacred, 
since  the  welfare  of  all  depended  upon  its  con- 
tinuance. Then,  in  the  course  of  ages,  the  be- 
lief grew  up  that  the  lives  of  all  men  must  be 
considered  sacred,  since  no  man  was  inherently 
better  than  another;  and  to-day,  when  a  great 
liner  sinks  at  sea,  the  best  men  step  aside, 
leaving  the  way  to  safety  open  to  the  most 
humble  women  and  children.  The  individual — 
not  as  a  leader,  or  king,  or  lord,  but  as  an  in- 
dividual— has  been  recognized. 

As  man  became  individualized  he  began  to 
take  thought — thought  for  the  morrow  and 
thought  for  others.  The  very  act  of  taking 
thought  made  him  still  more  of  an  individual. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  45 

Thus  the  two  forces — the  one  developing  a 
being  capable  of  independent  thought  and  ac- 
tion; the  other,  increasing  individualization 
through  individual  thought  and  action, — acting 
and  reacting, — erected,  gradually,  a  type  of 
man  who  had  both  foresight  and  altruism. 

Let  no  one  suppose  that  these  are  exclusively 
human  attributes.  Many  animals  exhibit  fore- 
sight. "Go  to  the  ant,  thou  sluggard,"  coun- 
sels the  sage,  "  consider  her  ways  and  be  wise." 
In  times  of  plenty,  she  lays  in  a  store  against 
the  time  when  nature  is  less  bountiful.  How 
much  more  intelligence  does  this  display  than 
some  primitive  races,  who  have  in  the  language 
no  word  which  will  convey  the  idea,  "  the  day 
after  to-morrow,"  because  it  has  never  been 
necessary  for  them  to  think  so  far  into  the 
future.  Whether  foresight  is  the  outgrowth  of 
the  necessity  for  some  check  on  the  emotions, 
or  of  some  other  equally  important  advantage, 
need  not  delay  the  argument.  The  fact  remains 
that  men  begin  to  survey  the  past,  analyze  the 
present,  and  speculate  on  the  future.  Thus  his- 
tory, science,  and  philosophy  have  their  rise 
out  of  man's  attempt  to  measure  the  forces  of 
the  universe  and  to  adjust  himself  to  his  sur- 
roundings. Besides  these  thought  develop- 
ments which  are  involved  in  the  provision  of  a 
livelihood  for  his  own  maintenance  and  that  of 
those  dependent  on  him,  man  expresses  the  con- 
structive and  esthetic  side  of  his  nature  in  the 


46  SOCIAL  SANITY 

creation  of  objects  which  he  considers  useful 
and  beautiful,  the  former  assisting  in  the  pro- 
curing of  a  living;  the  latter  pleasing  the  eye. 
As  society  advances,  first  the  mother  and  then 
the  father  take  upon  themselves  a  more  active 
responsibility  for  the  care  of  their  young  until 
there  is  developed  that  altruism  which  is  one 
of  the  most  far-reaching  forces  of  civilization. 
Although  primitive  man  lives  essentially  in 
the  present,  it  is  a  noteworthy  fact  that  careful 
thinking,  both  as  to  the  future  and  the  past, 
preceded  careful  thought  about  the  present.  As 
far  back  as  historic  records  afford  evidence, 
men  were  speculating  about  things  other  than 
those  concerned  with  the  immediate  present. 
In  the  Middle  Ages  this  spirit  had  attained 
so  great  an  impetus  that  the  learned  men 
who  could  give  an  intimate  description  of 
the  narrowest  confines  of  hell,  and  furnish 
an  accurate  account  of  the  actions  of  the 
different  angels  of  the  celestial  regions,  had 
not  the  remotest  idea  about  the  physical  geogra- 
phy of  their  own  country,  or  of  the  chemical 
composition  of  the  foods  which  they  ate.  Dwell- 
ing continually  in  a  realm  of  metaphysical  ab- 
stractions, the  purveyors  of  knowledge  foisted 
upon  the  uninitiated  intellectual  commodities 
more  monstrously  misbranded  than  any  which 
the  wildest  dreams  of  nineteenth  century  com- 
mercialism could  have  devised.  Not  only  has  the 
flimsiest  speculation  about  the  past  sold  under 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  47 

the  guise  of  authenticity,  not  only  did  prognos- 
tications about  the  future  pass  as  current  coin 
of  the  spiritual  realm,  but  the  speculation 
of  the  past  and  the  prophecy  over  the  future 
dominated  the  thought  of  the  present,  until  the 
man  who  failed  to  agree  with  Aristotle,  or 
who  denied  the  infallibility  of  the  Apocalypse, 
was  a  candidate  for  the  torment,  the  dungeon, 
and  the  stake. 

It  remained  for  the  nineteenth  century  to 
apply  the  speculations  of  earlier  ages  to  the 
life  of  the  present,  and  through  the  institution 
of  a  scientific  a+^*tude  toward  the  world  in 
which  we  live,  to  reshape  civilization.  The 
Egyptians  and  Babylonians  and  Greeks  were 
at  one  time  definitely  scientific  in  their  attitude 
toward  life,  but  for  centuries  the  spirit  of  sci- 
ence slumbered, — half  awaking,  now  and  again, 
when  some  choice  soul  proclaimed  the  eternal 
verities  as  he  saw  them. 

Throughout  the  epoch  of  reverence  of  the 
past  and  awe  of  the  future,  dogma  and  tradi- 
tion, throttling  the  spirit  of  investigation,  dark- 
ened the  ages  with  the  blackness  of  barbaric 
ignorance.  Slowly  their  hold  loosened,  how- 
ever, until,  in  the  nineteenth  century,  a  premium 
was  laid  on  scientific  ability  and  the  world 
reaped,  and  is  still  reaping,  a  great  harvest  of 
scientific  achievement. 

The  spirit  of  science  is  the  spirit  of  progress, 
demanding  of  each  phenomenon  an  explanation 


48  SOCIAL  SANITY 

of  its  significance  and  potency.  Science  has 
no  preconceived  answer.  Instead  it  questions 
the  facts  in  each  case,  frankly  asking  "  Howl  " 
and  ' '  Why  ?  ' ' — investigating,  discovering,  ana- 
lyzing, and  proclaiming.  Science  knows  neither 
right  nor  wrong.     She  seeks  the  truth. 

Science  deals  with  the  life  stream  as  it  is, — 
its  ingredients,  its  velocity,  its  gradient,  its 
direction,  its  quays,  and  its  docks.  The  dogma 
of  past  ages  holds  neither  attraction  nor  terror 
for  the  scientist, — he  merely  questions  the  liv- 
ing present;  scorning  bigotry,  seeking  enlight- 
enment, and  bespeaking  progress.  Science 
would  tell  man,  first,  what  the  life  stream  is, 
and  second,  how  it  may  be  used  to  the  greatest 
human  advantage.  In  its  broadest  sense,  the 
spirit  of  science  is  a  spirit  of  frank  recognition 
of  the  world  as  it  is,  and  of  an  equally  frank 
endeavor  to  use  it  to  greater  human  advan- 
tage. 

How  fatal  are  the  results  of  an  unscientific 
attitude  in  every  walk  of  life !  How  bitter  the 
visitations  of  disappointment,  how  swift  the 
punishments  which  Nature  metes  out  to  him 
who  ignores  her!  Science  holds  out  a  hand  of 
glad  hope  to  mankind.  How  soon  will  he  see 
and  understand? 

"  Come,"  I  asked  a  small  farmer,  late  in 
March,  "  plow  this  piece  of  land  for  me." 

"  Now  see  here,"  he  protested,  "  you  can't 
plow  land  this  early,  it's  full  of  water." 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  49 

**  Well,  I'm  paying  you  for  your  time,  and 
the  risk  is  mine." 

The  good  fellow,  fearful  of  doing  me  an  in- 
jury, shook  his  head,  got  out  his  plow,  and 
obeyed.  The  plow  was  rusty,  not  having  been 
used  before  that  year,  but  after  two  or  three 
furrows,  the  land  broke  beautifully,  and  in  one 
harrowing  was  pulverized  almost  to  the  con- 
sistency of  ashes. 

My  friend  stopped  his  horses,  took  off  his 
hat,  and  exclaimed  in  a  disappointed  tone, 
*'  Well,  I  never  see  land  plow  so  well  this  early 
in  the  spring.    It  sure  is  remarkable." 

Truly  there  was  nothing  remarkable  about 
the  performance.  The  land  in  question  was  in 
a  high  state  of  cultivation — loamy  and  full  of 
humus.  It  naturally  plowed  easily.  Further, 
while  the  normal  amount  of  rain  had  fallen 
that  spring,  nearly  every  storm  had  been  so 
torrential  that  a  large  part  of  the  water  had 
run  off  without  sinking  into  the  soil.  These 
facts  had  escaped  my  good  friend's  attention. 
Without  thinking  about  the  matter  at  all,  he 
had  been  unwilling  to  experiment  because  ' '  you 
can't  plow  land  this  early."  His  grandfather 
and  father  had  plowed  at  a  certain  date.  In 
the  course  of  his  bounden  duty,  he  honored  his 
father  by  plowing  at  the  same  time.  The  idea 
of  plowing  earlier — well,  it  had  never  even 
occurred  to  him. 

Strange,  it  will  undoubtedly  sound  to  many 


50  SOCIAL  SANITY 

persons  concerned  in  making  a  living  out  of 
the  soil,  but  there  is  just  one  way  to  determine 
whether  land  will  plow  at  a  given  time — that 
is  to  run  a  furrow  and  see  what  happens.  The 
question  is  purely  a  question  of  fact, — of  the 
consistency  of  the  soil,  of  the  amount  of  mois- 
ture it  contains,  of  the  lay  of  the  land,  and  of 
the  weather.  There  is  no  opportunity  for  spec- 
ulation or  dogma.  Either  the  land  will  plow 
or  it  will  not. 

The  city-born  man  will  doubtless  appreciate 
this  countryman's  ignorance  of  facts, — how 
stupid  countrymen  seem  to  be !  Yet  how  easily 
may  the  countryman  reciprocate ! 

"  Who  is  that  chap  who  sold  you  the  bogus 
stock?  "  asked  one  farmer  of  another. 

"  That,"  answered  the  other,  "  is  the  city 
fellow  who  is  paying  fifty  cents  a  gallon  for 
crystal  spring  water  out  of  my  mill  pond." 

The  countryman  is  not  alone  in  ignoring 
facts.  The  ignorance  of  people  everywhere 
would  be  laughable  if  it  were  not  so  pitiful.  The 
city  population  is  prone  to  forget  that  many 
of  the  vital  affairs  of  life,  heretofore  dependent 
on  tradition  or  custom,  are  likewise  susceptible 
of  scientific  analysis  and  report.  How  many 
city  folks  of  your  acquaintance  pay  five  cents 
for  a  trolley  ride,  never  once  dreaming  of 
making  a  protest.  Protest?  Why  should  we 
protest,  has  not  the  fare  always  been  five  cents? 
How  could  it  be  otherwise?     In  large  towns 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  51 

and  small  cities — everywhere  people  give  up 
five  cents.  In  some  cities  they  receive  free 
transfers,  in  others  they  pay  for  them.  There 
was  one  city,  Cleveland,  which,  in  an  inquiring 
state  of  mind,  asked  first  itself,  and  later  the 
traction  company,  how  much  it  really  cost  to 
carry  passengers.  As  a  result  of  the  inquiry, 
passengers  are  carried  in  Cleveland — which,  by 
the  way,  is  a  city  of  half  a  million,  spread  out 
for  miles  along  the  lake  front — for  three  cents, 
universal  transfers  are  given,  and  the  company 
makes  six  per  cent  on  its  investment.  Nothing 
like  that  was  ever  done  before !  No,  but  it  will 
be  duplicated  many  times  when  city  folks  grasp 
the  spirit  of  fair-minded  science. 

The  Cleveland  street-car  situation  was  typ- 
ical of  that  in  most  other  large  American  cities. 
People  were  paying  five  cents  for  a  ride  while 
the  actual  cost  of  carrying  passengers,  based 
on  a  fair  valuation  of  the  property  and  a  fair 
return  on  the  investment,  was  almost  exactly 
three  cents  per  passenger.  No  witchcraft  was 
employed  to  obtain  that  answer.  Accountants, 
engineers,  and  traction  experts  made  a  study 
and  a  report.  If  people  could  be  carried  at  a 
fair  profit  for  three  cents,  why  pay  more! 
Why  indeed!  The  people  of  Cleveland  an- 
swered the  question  by  paying  no  more.  You 
can  travel  to  that  city  to-morrow,  purchase  five 
tickets  for  fifteen  cents,  get  a  free  transfer  on 
all  intersecting  lines,  and  ride  in  a  splendidly 


52  SOCIAL  SANITY 

built  car  over  as  smooth  a  roadbed  as  you  will 
find  anywhere  in  the  United  States. 

Street-cars  are  not  the  only  public  conveni- 
ences in  American  cities.  There  are  gas,  tel- 
ephones, steam  railroads,  and  electricity.  How 
much  do  these  things  cost?  The  question  is  a 
question  of  science;  the  answer  is  a  scientific 
answer.  Then,  too,  there  are  the  larger  issues, 
— Who  benefits  by  the  tariff?  What  governs 
the  price  of  beef?  Who  gains  through  increased 
land  valuations?  These  and  a  score  of  other 
pressing  public  questions  can  be  answered  in 
terms  of  neither  dogma  nor  tradition.  They 
are  scientific  questions,  demanding  scientific  ex- 
positions. 

Social  sanity  can  be  based  on  nothing  less 
than  a  scientific  attitude  toward  the  facts  of 
social  life.  By  what  other  means  may  society 
protect  and  preserve  itself  than  by  determining 
in  each  case  the  true  relations  existing  between 
various  social  things? 

Not  once  nor  twice  every  year,  a  student 
comes  to  me  railing  against  socialism.  It  will 
destroy  the  home;  it  will  break  down  society; 
it  is  a  menace  to  morals;  it  is  organized  rob- 
bery! To  all  of  which  I  reply  with  the  per- 
tinent question, — ''  What  is  socialism?  " 

First  the  lad  bluffs,  next  he  side-steps,  then 
he  apologizes,  and  finally,  driven  to  bay,  he 
grudgingly  admits  that  he  never  heard  anyone 
explain  the  principles  of  socialism;  that  he 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  53 

never  read  a  book  by  any  leading  socialist; 
that  he  never  Imew  anybody  who  had  read  such 
a  work;  that  his  father  had  told  him  that  so- 
cialists were  dangerous  to  the  social  order ;  that 
he  had  never  talked  with  any  really  intelligent 
member  of  the  socialist  party,  and  that,  in  short, 
while  he  knew  nothing  about  socialism  or  social- 
ists, he  was  thoroughly  opposed  to  both.  At 
this  point,  the  average  student,  without  more 
suggestion,  will  get  a  couple  of  books  and  read 
up  on  the  matter  before  he  attempts  to  discuss 
it  further. 

The  question  of  socialism,  like  the  question 
of  soil  friability  or  of  street-car  fares,  is  first 
of  all  a  question  of  fact.  No  fair-minded  man 
attempts  to  discuss  such  matters,  or  any  other 
matters  of  fact,  until  he  is  thoroughly  conver- 
sant with  the  facts.  In  place  of  "  fair-minded  " 
read  scientific,  and  the  statement  is  still  true, 
for  the  spirit  of  science  requires  the  individual 
to  confront  all  issues  in  a  frank,  open-minded 
way,  with  an  entire  willingness  to  accept  the 
logical  conclusions  derived  from  things  as  they 
are. 

We  laugh  pityingly  in  the  twentieth  century 
when  we  hear  that  Christopher  Columbus  was 
forced  to  spend  years  arguing  theories  before 
he  was  allowed  to  test  the  facts.  Was  the 
earth  round  or  flat?  Would  a  ship,  sailing  off 
to  the  west,  fall  into  a  bottomless  abyss?  No 
one  could  answer  because  no  one  had  tried,  and 


54  SOCIAL  SANITY 

although  the  learning  of  the  fathers  showed  very 
clearly  that  Columbus  and  his  brave  followers 
must  perish,  they  came  back,  safe  and  sound, 
after  discovering  a  new  shore. 

With  what  astonishment  do  we  regard  the 
assaults  made  upon  the  Darwinian  theories  im- 
mediately after  their  publication.  Darwin  him- 
self was  the  object  of  bitter  personal  at- 
tacks. Even  so  profound  a  thinker  as  Ruskin 
sneered  at  this  presumptuous  meddler,  who  like 
a  hazy  comet  was  wagging  his  phosphorescent 
tail  against  the  eternal  stars.  The  world  jeered, 
laughed,  protested,  expostulated. 

What  had  Darwin  done?  He  had  merely  col- 
lected a  group  of  facts,  and,  after  viewing  them 
in  every  possible  light,  had  drawn  certain  con- 
clusions from  them.  Was  he  right  or  wrong? 
In  order  to  decide  that  question,  the  beginner 
must  take  Darwin's  facts,  set  beside  them  the 
facts  at  his  disposal,  analyze,  deduce,  and  draw 
his  conclusion.  It  is  of  no  avail  to  call  such  a 
man  an  "  atheist  "  or  a  "  brutal  scientist." 

Sixty  years  before,  when  Thomas  Malthus 
published  his  essay  on  ' '  The  Principles  of  Pop- 
ulation," a  similar  controversy  was  raised. 
Malthus  showed  that  the  world  was  speeding 
toward  over-population  and  consequent  starva- 
tion. Instantly,  he  was  proclaimed  as  an  enemy 
of  church  and  state,  a  stirrer  up  of  discord,  a 
profaner  of  God's  beautiful  world.  Malthus  re- 
plied, and  the  controversy  raged  for  years. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  55 

Malthus  was  wrong.  He  overlooked,  or 
rather,  he  under-estimated  the  potency  of  the 
preventive  checks  on  the  increase  of  popula- 
tion. Marriages  are  made  at  a  later  and  later 
age.  The  birth-rate  is  being  restricted  in  all 
sections  of  the  population.  These  are  facts,  and 
they  constitute  the  only  effective  answer  to 
Malthus'  propositions. 

Whatever  the  point  at  issue,  if  the  affirmative 
be  based  on  fact, — and  no  scientific  controversy 
is  tenable  in  which  the  affirmative  is  not  based 
on  fact, — the  opposition  can  meet  the  issues  in 
no  other  way  than  by  proving  the  unsoundness 
of  the  opposing  facts,  or  of  the  arguments  built 
on  them.  A  minister  one  day  stood  in  his  pulpit 
with  ''  Science  and  Health  "  in  his  hands,  for 
five  minutes  discussed  its  seven  hundred  closely 
written  pages,  and  dismissed  it  for  good.  ' '  Sci- 
ence and  Health  "  has  vulnerable  points,  but 
instead  of  assailing  them,  this  man  sought,  by 
abuse  and  ridicule,  to  answer  an  elaborate  state- 
ment. 

But  surely  these  statements  have  no  applica- 
tion to  us.  We  are  tolerant  and  broad-minded. 
You  are  no  doubt  convinced  of  that,  yet  how 
many  of  you  who  are  in  charge  of  educational 
institutions  would  follow  the  example  of  a  city 
superintendent  of  schools,  whose  reply  to  any 
teacher  with  a  new  theory  invariably  is, — "  Try 
it.  There  is  no  other  way  in  which  the  truth 
or  falsity  of  an  educational  theory  can  be  dem- 


56  SOCIAL  SANITY 

onstrated  "?  How  many  school  superintendents 
would  have  referred  to  the  educational  authori- 
ties of  the  past  two  centuries  and  with  fine 
phrases,  and  oft-spun  arguments,  dismissed  the 
matter ! 

Yet,  broadly  speaking,  the  spirit  of  science 
has  found  a  place  in  the  wellspring  of  intelli- 
gent twentieth  century  thought.  "  Science  is 
simply  a  higher  development  of  common  knowl- 
edge; and  if  Science  is  repudiated,  all  knowl- 
edge must  be  repudiated  along  with  it.  The 
extremest  bigot  will  not  suspect  any  harm  in 
the  observation  that  the  sun  rises  earlier  and 
sets  later  in  summer  than  in  winter;  but  will 
rather  consider  such  an  observation  as  a  useful 
aid  in  fulfilling  the  duties  of  life.  Well,  As- 
tronomy is  an  organized  body  of  kindred  ob- 
servations, made  with  the  greatest  nicety.  .  .  . 
That  iron  will  rust  in  water,  that  wood  will 
burn,  that  long-kept  viands  become  putrid,  the 
most  timid  sectarian  will  teach  without  alarm, 
as  things  useful  to  be  known.  But  these  are 
chemical  truths.  .  .  .  And  thus  it  is  with  all 
sciences.  They  severally  germinate  out  of  the 
experiences  of  daily  life."  *  On  these  and  sim- 
ilar experiences  scientific  deductions  are  based. 
All  scientific   method  is  the    same,  namely, — 

*'  1.    Observation  of  facts — including  under 


*  "First  Principles,"  Herbert  Spencer.    New  York  :  The  Mac- 
millan  Co.,  1909,     Pp.  14,  15. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  57 

this  head  that  artificial  observation  which  is 
called  experiment. 

"  2.  That  process  of  tying  up  similar  facts 
into  bundles  which  is  called  Comparison  and 
Classification— the  results  of  the  process,  the 
ticketed  bundles  being  named  General  Proposi- 
tions. 

''  3.  Deduction,  which  takes  us  from  general 
propositions  to  the  facts  again,  teaches  us,  if  I 
may  so  say,  to  anticipate  from  the  ticket  what 
is  inside  the  bundle.    And  finally — 

''  4.  Verification,  which  is  the  process  of 
ascertaining  whether,  in  point  of  fact,  our  an- 
ticipation is  a  correct  one."  * 

Yet  the  scientist  must  not  forget  that  "  not 
only  is  there  '  a  soul  of  goodness  in  things 
evil,  but  very  generally  also  '  a  soul  of  truth 
in  things  erroneous."!  The  spirit  of  science 
is  a  spirit  of  fair-mindedness,  straight  dealing, 
and  truthfulness.  The  three  necessary  quali- 
fications for  a  scientist,  Sir  Michael  Foster  con- 
tends, are  truthfulness,  alertness,  and  courage. 
(1)  "  The  seeker  after  truth  must  himself  be 
truthful, — truthful  with  the  truthfulness  of  na- 
ture." (2)  ''He  must  be  alert  of  mind,  ever 
on  the  watch,  ready  at  once  to  lay  hold  of 
Nature's  hint,  however  small,  to  listen  to  her 
whisper,  however  low."     (3)    "  Scientific  in- 

*  "  Science  and  Education,"  Thomas  H.  Huxley.    New  York  : 
D.  Appleton  &  Co.,  1901.     P.  52. 
f  "First  Principles,"  op.  cit.,  p.  3. 


58  SOCIAL  SANITY 

quiry  has  need  of  moral  courage — not  so  much 
the  courage  which  helps  a  man  to  face  a  sudden 
difficulty,  as  the  courage  of  steadfast  endur- 
ance." * 

In  the  same  strain  Huxley  writes, — ''  If 
there  is  a  young  man  of  the  present  generation 
who  has  taken  as  much  trouble  as  I  did  to  assure 
himself  that  they  are  truths,  let  him  come  out 
with  them,  without  troubling  his  head  about  the 
barking  of  the  dogs  of  St.  Eunulphus.  '  Veritas 
prgevalebit ' — some  day;  and  even  if  she  does 
not  prevail  in  his  time,  he  himself  will  be  the 
better  and  the  wiser  for  having  tried  to  help 
her.  And  let  him  recollect  that  such  great  re- 
ward is  full  payment  for  all  his  labor  and 
pains."  t 

Meanwhile  each  passing  year  demonstrates 
more  surely  that  the  spirit  of  science  which  is 
possessing  the  modern  world,  is  a  broader  spirit 
than  any  that  has  gone  before.  More  tolerant, 
more  human,  more  pregnant  with  hope  for  the 
future.  Under  it  the  old  forces  of  ignorance  and 
bigotry  are  ground  into  jDOwder.  In  a  few  well 
chosen  words  does  Shaw  expound  the  whole  plii- 
losophy.  Larry,  an  Irishman,  resident  in  Eng- 
land, is  excusing  himself  for  having  failed  to 
visit  his  father  in  eighteen  years.  ' '  Think  of  me 
and  my  father,"  he  exclaims.  ''  He's  a  Nation- 
aUst  and  a   Separatist.     I'm  a  metallurgical 

*"  Darwinism  and  Human  Life,"  op.  cit.,  p.  32. 
f  "  Man's  Place  in  Nature,"  op.  cit.,  p.  xi. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  SCIENCE  59 

chemist  turned  civil  engineer.  Now  whatever 
else  metallurgical  chemistry  may  be  it's  not 
national.  It's  international.  And  my  business 
and  yours,  as  civil  engineers,  is  to  join  coun- 
tries, not  to  separate  them.  The  one  real  polit- 
ical conviction  that  our  business  has  rubbed  into 
us  is  that  frontiers  are  hindrances,  and  flags 
confounded  nuisances."  * 

Let  no  one  infer  that  speculative  philosophy 
and  religion  have  no  place  in  the  new  scheme 
of  things.  Their  field  is  ever  broadening. 
They  still  direct  the  work  of  science,  suggesting 
and  leading  into  untried  fields.  Yet  in  cases, 
and  their  name  is  legion,  where  demonstration 
is  possible,  argument  and  protest  have  no  place. 
Why  judge,  why  condemn,  why  scoff,  or  sneer, 
or  ridicule?  Rather  prove  or  disprove,  for  this 
is  the  spirit  of  science. 

Questions  of  fact  are  still  questions  of  fact, 
though  they  overthrow  our  most  cherished  be- 
liefs. When  an  issue  of  fact  and  logic  is  raised, 
it  can  be  answered  in  only  one  way — by  fact  and 
logic.  Every  issue  which  is  susceptible  of  in- 
terpretation in  these  terms  must  be  so  inter- 
preted. Honesty,  courage,  fairness — such  is  the 
spirit  of  science. 

* ' '  John  Bull's  Other  Island. "    Act  I. 


Ill 

THE   KINGDOM   OF   MAN 

The  boundaries  of  man's  power  to  direct  the 
life  stream  are  the  boundaries  of  his  kingdom. 
Within  these  limits,  he  is  monarch;  without, 
darkness  and  old  night  play  havoc  with  his 
feeble  powers.  The  kingdom  of  man  is  a  grow- 
ing kingdom.  Little  by  little,  man,  the  mon- 
arch, has  extended  the  boundaries  of  his  domain, 
— conquering  the  land,  the  water,  the  lightning, 
and  now,  in  these  latter  days,  even  the  air. 
Is  it  too  much  to  suppose  that  as  time  flies 
he  will  likewise  take  possession  of  the  kingdoms 
of  metaphysics,  babbling  in  the  language  of 
the  fourth  dimension?  Whatever  the  final  out- 
come, no  one  can,  after  the  achievements  of 
the  past  five  thousand  years,  presume  to  set 
bounds  upon  the  things  that  man  may  do. 

The  tools  with  which  man  must  subdue  his 
kingdom  are  the  tools  of  science.  Wherever 
the  boundaries  are  extended,  the  work  is  done 
through  the  use  of  classified  knowledge.  The 
land,  the  water,  the  lightning,  the  air  are 
brought  to  do  man's  bidding  only  through  the 
use  of  the  accumulated  wisdom  of  the  ages. 
Without  science,  man  is  an  animal,  hunted  from 

60 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  61 

lair  to  lair  by  the  larger  and  stronger  brutes, 
uncertain  of  food  or  shelter.  Armed  with  the 
power  that  science  brings, — weapons,  tools,  fire, 
formulas,  machines,  and  the  forces  of  the  earth, 
water  and  air,  man  passes  as  a  conquering  hero 
over  the  plains  and  through  the  jungles  that 
formerly  bespoke  danger  and  death.  Sorcery 
has  played  no  part ;  the  conjurer  has  been  dis- 
pensed with;  the  ascertained  facts  alone  remain. 
This  knowledge,  wielded  at  the  behest  of  beliefs 
and  of  theories,  has  enabled  man  to  win  his 
throne,  and  proclaim  himself  the  unchallenged 
lord  of  the  beasts  and  birds,  and  of  many  of 
the  forces  of  nature  as  well. 

A  prejudice  still  lingers  against  the  idea 
of  a  kingdom  of  man.  The  thought  is  so  new, 
and  its  multitudinous  applications  through  the 
realm  of  science  have  been  made  so  recently, 
that  it  has  scarcely  been  made  a  part  of  popular 
knowledge.  Men,  in  times  past,  have  worshiped 
the  Kingdom  of  God,  and  they  have  trembled 
before  the  terrors  of  Satanic  Despotism,  but 
man's  kingdom,  until  recent  years,  has  never 
attracted  their  attention.  Yet  man  has  a  king- 
dom, which  upon  due  consideration  appears  to 
be  in  every  way  remarkable. 

Perhaps  our  forefathers  had  some  ground  for 
emphasizing  the  baser  qualities  of  man, — in 
pointing  out  that  he  was  "  a  mere  worm,"  *'  the 
dust  of  the  earth,"  "  a  rude  clod,"  and  the  like. 
Nevertheless,  such  careful  natural  scientists  as 


62  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Linnaeus,  Buffon,  Darwin,  and  Huxley  have  in- 
sisted,— apparently  with  excellent  reason, — 
that  there  are  certain  well  marked  dilTerences 
between  the  genus  homo  on  the  one  hand,  and 
worms,  dust,  and  clods  on  the  other.  Indeed, 
a  reading  of  these  and  other  equally  reputable 
authors,  leads  even  the  skeptic  to  the  conclusion 
that  man  is  not  so  base  a  creature,  after  all, 
but  one  of  the  most  complex,  best  working  or- 
ganisms of  which  nature  affords  a  record. 
Furthermore, — and  therein  lies  the  truly  signifi- 
cant part  of  the  business, — man  alone  among 
the  creatures  of  the  earth  has  built  himself  a 
kingdom.  No  other  being,  so  far  as  we  know 
them,  can  utilize  the  forces  of  mighty  Mother 
Nature,  combining  them  and  directing  them  to 
meet  the  varying  needs  of  his  life. 

Nature  has  produced,  in  man,  a  rival  of  no 
mean  power.  When  she  produced  man,  she  sur- 
passed herself.  He  is  her  prodigy— perhaps, 
who  knows,  her  Frankenstein  as  well.  In  him 
Edwin  Markham  sees,  first  of  all,  the  contem- 
plative spirit: — 

''  Out  of  the  deep  and  endless  universe 
There  came  a  greater  Mystery,  a  Shape, 
A  something  sad,  inscrutable,  august — 
One  to  confront  the  worlds  and  question  them." 

Markham  thus  venerates  the  spirit  of  philoso- 
phy. He  might  have  emphasized,  with  equal 
justice,  the  spirit  of  science. 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  63 

Whether  nature  is  concerned  about  man  we 
cannot  tell,  but  we  do  know  that,  among  his 
own  kind,  he  has  been  the  object  of  no  little 
analysis  and  speculation.  His  origin,  his  na- 
ture, his  power,  his  virtue,  his  grandeur,  and 
his  destiny  have  been  the  source  of  endless  dis- 
cussion. In  the  realm  of  science  this  discussion 
has  led  to  careful  studies  and  comparisons. 
Man  has  been  taken  to  pieces,  treated  chem- 
ically, and  subjected  to  tests  psychological 
and  anatomical.  The  conclusion  of  the  matter 
lies  in  a  series  of  explanations  which  show,  more 
and  more  clearly  with  the  lapse  of  time,  the 
qualifications  which  enable  man  to  assert  his 
royal  prerogatives  over  the  animate  world. 

Nowhere,  perhaps,  have  man's  physical  qual- 
ifications for  kingship  been  better  set  forth  than 
in  that  most  readable  treatise  by  Thomas  Hux- 
ley on  "  The  Nature  of  Man."  Man,  an  ambi- 
dextrous biped,  to  use  the  phraseology  of  Car- 
lyle,  stands  erect  on  his  feet, — almost  never 
depending  upon  his  hands  for  locomotion.  This 
upright  posture,  although  its  importance  has 
probably  been  greatly  over-emphasized,  has  cer- 
tain marked  advantages  over  the  horizontal  pos- 
ture of  most  animals,  and  even  over  the  posture 
of  those  apes,  like  the  orang-outang,  the  chim- 
panzee, and  the  gorilla,  which,  while  standing 
on  their  feet,  depend  upon  their  hands  for  aid 
in  locomotion.  The  man  standing  firmly  on  his 
feet,  his  hands  free  for  use  in  offense  or  defense, 


64  SOCIAL  SANITY 

possesses  a  striking  advantage  over  all  other 
members  of  the  brute  creation. 

The  real  anatomical  superiority  of  man  over 
the  other  creatures  lies  in  two  directions, — in 
the  first  place,  he  has  one  finger  on  each  hand 
(the  thumb)  set  at  right  angles  to  the  remain- 
der of  the  hand  and  operating  independently 
in  such  a  way  that  its  end  may  come  in  contact 
with  the  ends  of  all  of  the  other  fingers.  This 
structure  in  the  hand,  which  enables  man  to 
grasp  "  'twixt  thumb  and  finger,"  places  him 
on  a  vantage  ground  occupied,  otherwise,  by 
only  a  few  of  the  higher  apes.  All  four  feet 
of  most  mammals  are  built  around  a  bony  struc- 
ture, like  that  of  the  human  foot,  which  must 
move  in  unison  or  not  at  all.  The  hand  of  man 
with  its  thumb  is  the  exception,  and  it  is  this 
exception,  coupled  with  man's  second  advantage 
— a  large  frontal  development  of  the  brain — 
which  has  enabled  him  to  build  his  kingdom. 

The  frontal  lobe  of  the  brain  apparently  con- 
tains its  administrative  offices.  Like  the  super- 
intendent's office  in  a  factory  the  frontal  lobe 
co-ordinates  the  mental  functions  and  powers. 
Where  the  frontal  lobe  is  destroyed,  as  it  has 
been  in  a  few  rare  cases,  the  man  loses  his 
sense  of  proportions  and  values,  failing,  largely, 
in  the  control  of  his  actions.  Couple  these  two 
things  together, — the  hand  with  its  thumb,  and 
the  brain  with  its  elaborate  department  of  ad- 
ministration,— and  in  the  creature  possessing 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  65 

both  there  lies  the  potentiality  of  world  mas- 
tery. 

The  mastering  of  the  world?  Nay,  more,  the 
mastering  of  two  worlds,— first,  the  world  of 
external  things;  second,  the  world  of  animate 
Hfe  lying  within  man  himself.  Thus  has  arisen 
a  man  having  dominion  over  the  fowls  of  the 
air,  the  beasts  of  the  field,  and  the  gold  and 
silver  under  a  thousand  hills;  thus  has  arisen 
likewise  man  having  dominion  over  himself, 
shaping,  in  large  measure,  his  own  destiny  and 
the  destiny  of  the  race  of  which  he  is  a 
part. 

Eeview,  for  a  moment,  the  history  of  man's 
declaration  of  independence  from  dogma  and 
tradition  during  the  past  half-dozen  centuries. 
Society  was  ruled,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  by 
arbitrary  laws,  enacted  by  the  church,  or  by 
the  state,  acting  (theoretically)  for  the  church. 
The  light  of  the  semi-democratic  civilization  of 
Greece  and  Rome  had  faded  from  the  political 
horizon.  Despotism,  the  patron  saint  of  the 
time,  reigned  supreme  with  Fate,  her  next  of 
kin.  Here  and  there  a  bold  spirit  arose,  con- 
tending with  authority,  questioning  theological 
dogma,  and  calling  men  to  thought  and  freedom. 
Cells  and  gibbets  harbored  many  such.  Above 
them,  the  bulwarks  of  social  tradition  loomed 
stolidly,  proclaiming  abroad  the  noisome  doc- 
trine that,  while  a  true  believer  might  slay 
twenty  Mohammedans  in  the  name  of  Jesus, 


66  SOCIAL  SANITY 

lie  might  not  tliink  one  original  thought  in  the 
name  of  truth. 

Yet  the  light  broke.  From  questioning  the 
infallibility  of  the  church,  men  turned  to  ques- 
tion the  infallibility  of  the  Scripture.  They 
would  at  least  read  for  themselves!  So  theo- 
logical dogma  was  thrust  aside  here  and  there, 
by  the  braver  hearts  who  began  to  ask  of  all 
things : — 

1.  What  is  it! 

2.  Why  is  it? 

3.  How  can  we  employ  it  for  our  advantage  ? 
Similar  questions  had  arisen  in  classical  days, 
but  the  age  of  faith  had  overshadowed  them. 
Now  they  were  asked  again,  with  redoubled 
vigor. 

Gradually  the  answers  were  formulated.  The 
first  question  resulted  in  classification,  which  is 
the  foundation  of  constructive  thought.  The 
question  "  Why?  "  gave  rise  to  evolutionary 
science.  The  world,  demanding  fact  as  well  as 
faith,  was  replacing  theological  dogma  by  sci- 
entific deduction. 

Although  it  was  freed  from  theological 
dogma,  the  progressive  thought  of  the  seven- 
teenth and  eighteenth  centuries  was  still  domi- 
nated by  the  idea  that  laws  of  some  kind  were 
a  human  necessity.  The  social  atmosphere  still 
tingled  with  the  spirit  of  past  despotism. 
Hence,  without  a  protest,  men  passed  from  the 
dominion  of  theological  to  the  dominion  of  nat- 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  67 

ural  law.  Even  the  ablest  thinkers  sought  for 
principles  which,  like  Newton's  law  of  gravi- 
tation, would  underlie  and  control  all  phenom- 
ena. The  protest,  "  Back  to  nature,"  was 
merely  a  demand  that  the  world  leap  from  the 
frying-pan  of  theological  absolutism,  into  the 
fire  of  nature-tyranny.  Yet  the  thought  of  the 
eighteenth  century  teems  with  this  demand. 
The  Physiocrats  voiced  it;  the  natural  theo- 
logians preached  it;  Rousseau  popularized  it. 
Its  logical  flower  was  the  French  Revolution, 
which  was  a  blind  effort  to  pour  the  new  wine 
of  emancipated  thought  from  the  old  bottles 
of  political  despotism  into  almost  equally  nar- 
row bottles  of  political  pedantry.  In  the  process 
much  wine  was  lost.  "  Natural  law  "  dogma 
bound  the  thought  of  eighteenth  century  think- 
ers in  exactly  the  same  way  that  the  ''  divine 
right  "  dogma  had  bound  the  thought  of  their 
ancestors. 

Nowhere  is  the  transition  better  shown  than 
in  the  development  of  the  new  world  science 
of  economics.  Economics  was  born  in  the 
eighteenth  century, — born  of  natural  theology 
and  physiocratic  philosophy.  Hereditarily,  eco- 
nomics suffered  from  in-breeding.  Environ- 
mentally, it  was  hedged  in  by  the  narrowest 
of  narrow  concepts — that  of  subjection  to 
'^  higher  powers." 

Was  economics  to  become  a  science?  Adam 
Smith  and  his  contemporaries  hoped  that  it 


68  SOCIAL  SANITY 

was.  How  well  marked,  then,  was  the  path? 
All  sciences  were  founded  on  natural  laws.  If 
economics  was  to  be  raised  into  the  hierarchy 
of  sciences,  a  great  natural  law  must  be  found 
which  would  explain  economic  phenomena.  The 
economists,  therefore,  applied  the  tests  of  sci- 
ence to  their  doctrines  in  order  to  establish 
their  scientific  nature.  To  the  question,  "  What 
is  it?  "  they  replied,  "  A  science  of  Wealth." 
To  the  question,  "  Why  is  it?  "  they  answered, 
"  Because  of  intelligent  self-interest,"  "  the 
law  of  supply  and  demand,"  ''  competition," 
and  the  like.  The  third  question  they  did  not 
ask  because  the  eighteenth  century  accepted  and 
obeyed  nature's  laws  instead  of  trying  to  utilize 
them  for  human  advantage. 

Nevertheless,  the  third  question  must  be  an- 
swered. Of  all  things  men  will  ultimately  ask, 
''  How  can  we  employ  these  for  our  advan- 
tage? "  The  basis  of  the  answer  was  laid  in 
the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries,  when 
free  thought  had  largely  escaped  from  theolog- 
ical dogma;  when  knowledge  had  ceased  to  be 
the  right  of  the  few,  and  had  become  the  privi- 
lege of  all.  In  the  eighteenth  century  the  ques- 
tion was  asked  of  government.  Men  challenged 
the  divine  right  of  kings,  and,  on  both  sides 
of  the  Atlantic,  democracy  replaced  monarchy. 
During  the  nineteenth  century,  experimental 
science  asked  the  same  question  of  natural  law; 
estabUshed  the  power  of  human  thought;  forged 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  69 

the  tools  with  which  the  work  must  be  done; 
and  bent  immutable  nature  to  the  service  of 
man  through  applied  science.  Thus  knowledge, 
government,  and  natural  phenomena  have  been 
turned  to  human  service.  The  twentieth  cen- 
tury voices  a  demand  that  economics  undergo 
the  same  process  of  transformation  from  a  sci- 
ence which  serves  laws  to  a  science  which  serves 
society. 

On  the  one  hand,  science  has  demonstrated 
that  all  so-called  laws  may  be  employed  to  serve 
men,  or  else,  if  their  influence  is  harmful,  coun- 
teracted and  offset.  Gravitation  has  ceased  to 
be  an  enemy;  lightning  holds  few  terrors;  the 
waterfall  is  harnessed;  the  plague  stayed;  the 
desert  blooms;  time  and  space  have  lost  their 
vastness;  men  have  triumphed  everywhere 
through  the  mastery  of  human  thought.  What- 
ever laws  economics  may  depend  upon  are  no 
more  changeless  than  these  overwhelmed  laws 
of  nature. 

We  are  no  more  subject  to  the  laws  of  eco- 
nomics than  our  ancestors  were  subject  to  the 
laws  of  military  tactics ;  than  we  are  subject  to 
the  laws  of  education ;  or  than  our  descendants 
will  be  subject  to  the  laws  of  the  sanitary  sci- 
ence which  we  are  creating.  There  are  formulas 
of  thought  called  "  laws  "  in  all  sciences,  but 
Napoleon  overthrew  and  remade  the  laws  of 
military  tactics;  Froebel  restated  the  laws  of 
education;  and  Pasteur  created  the  science  of 


70  SOCIAL  SANITY 

sanitation.  There  is  an  economic  lawgiver — 
man,  who  can  unmake  or  remake  that  which 
he  has  made. 

The  economists  in  the  past  have  asked 
*'  What  I  "  and  "  Why?  "  of  economic  phenom- 
ena. The  time  has  now  come  when  they  must 
face  the  third  question  and  discover  how  eco- 
nomics may  be  made  to  serve  mankind.  The 
discovery  that  opportunity  largely  shapes  the 
life  of  the  average  man,  determining  whether 
he  shall  be  happy  or  miserable,  has  led  to  an 
insistence  that  the  economists  part  company 
with  the  ominous  pictures  of  an  over-populated, 
starving  world,  prostrate  before  the  throne  of 
*'  competition,"  "  psychic  value,"  "  individ- 
ual initiative,"  "  private  property,"  or  some 
other  pseudo-god,  and  tell  men  in  simple, 
straightforward  language  how  they  may  com- 
bine, reshape,  or  overcome  the  laws  and  utilize 
them  as  a  blessing  instead  of  enduring  them 
as  a  burden  and  a  curse.  The  day  has  dawned 
when  economists  must  explain  that  welfare  must 
be  put  before  wealth ;  that  the  iron  law  of  wages 
may  be  shattered  by  a  minimum  wage  law ;  that 
universal  over-population  is  being  prevented  by 
a  universal  restriction  in  the  birth-rate;  that 
overwork,  untimely  death,  and  a  host  of  other 
economic  maladjustments  will  disappear  before 
an  educated,  legislating  public  opinion ;  and  that 
combination  and  co-operation  may  be  employed 
to  silence  forever  the  savage  demands  of  un- 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  71 

restricted  competition.  In  short,  the  econo- 
mists, if  they  are  to  justify  their  existence,  must 
provide  a  tlieory  which  will  enable  the  average 
man,  by  co-operating  with  his  fellows,  to  bear 
more  easily  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day. 

How  shall  this  be?  What  relief  may  eco- 
nomics— "  the  dismal  science  " — afford?  Per- 
haps the  matter  can  best  be  stated  in  an  analogy 
suggested  by  Euskin.  Suppose  that  five  men 
were  to  take  a  tract  of  a  thousand  acres  for 
the  purpose  of  running  a  general  farm. 
Learned  in  the  art  of  scientific  agriculture,  these 
men  provide  the  necessary  tools,  equipment, 
fertilizers,  and  seeds,  prepare  the  ground,  sow 
the  crops,  harvest  the  grain,  potatoes,  fruit, 
and  vegetables,  and  take  them  to  market. 
Where  they  find  their  land  too  wet— they  drain 
it ;  if,  perchance,  the  tract  is  too  dry,  they  irri- 
gate; and  if  a  test  shows  that  a  certain  field 
needs  lime,  they  promptly  apply  lime.  These 
men  are  farming  the  land.  They  do  not  wait 
for  the  land  to  produce  a  living  for  them,  but 
instead,  they  use  the  land  in  every  conceivable 
way. 

Suppose  that,  instead  of  fertilizing,  irrigat- 
ing, and  draining,  these  men,  upon  discovering 
that  one  plot  was  very  fertile,  farmed  only  that 
plot,  leaving  the  less  fertile  parts  of  the  farm 
untilled;  suppose  that,  when  water  stood  in  a 
field,  they  invoked  the  aid  of  physics  and  mathe- 
matics, ascertained  that  this  field  was  low,  and 


72  SOCIAL  SANITY 

therefore  bound  to  be  wet;  suppose  that  they 
abandoned  a  hill  plot  which  would  not  raise 
tobacco  without  even  attempting  to  ascertain 
whether  it  would  grow  buckwheat ;  suppose  that 
after  venturing  timidly  to  try  a  few  minor  ex- 
periments, these  men,  discouraged  and  forlorn, 
should  assemble  around  a  stone,  and,  raising 
their  hands  to  the  sky,  should  beseech  some 
higher  power  to  make  water  run  up-hill  or 
tobacco  grow  on  buckwheat  land.  Or,  instead 
of  praying,  imagine  their  hopeless,  hang-dog 
air  as  they  gazed  dejectedly  over  their  thousand 
acres,  exclaiming, — ''  Alas,  the  law  of  gravita- 
tion makes  our  lowland  wet;  tobacco  will  not 
grow  on  the  highland ;  yonder  field  contains  no 
lime  for  our  clover  crop,  and  even  the  cattle 
in  the  hill  pasture  suffer  from  lack  of  water." 

*' What  a  picture!"  you  cry,  contemptu- 
ously. ''  What  sane  men  would  talk  so?  "  you 
demand.  "  The  illustration  approaches  the 
ridiculous.  Beseech  a  power!  Bemoan  the  law 
of  gravitation?  Fiddlesticks!  Irrigate,  drain, 
lime,  water,  fertilize,  and  the  land  will  bring 
forth  in  abundance." 

True,  true,  but  listen !  Ninety  million  people, 
some  of  them  intelligent  men  and  women,  living 
in  one  of  the  most  fertile  regions  of  the  whole 
earth,  possessed  of  boundless  natural  resources, 
of  knowledge,  and  of  energy,  have  suffered  for 
a  century  from  devastating  industrial  depres- 
sions; have  watched  little  children  work  their 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  73 

fingers  raw  in  the  coal  breakers ;  have  witnessed 
an  exploitation  of  women  that  has  required  two 
hundred  thousand  of  them  to  sell  their  bodies ; 
have  tolerated  sodden  misery,  poverty,  vice, 
criminality ;  have  permitted  one  small  group  in 
the  community  to  possess  itself  of  the  natural 
resources  on  which  all  depend,  and  to  exact  a 
monopoly  price,  from  all,  for  the  use  of  those 
resources;  and  now,  after  generations  of  this 
grewsome  motion  picture,  these  sane,  strong 
men  and  women  raise  their  hands  to  a  higher 
power,  or  slink  dejectedly  into  their  caricature 
homes,  making  scarcely  an  effort  to  throttle 
their  taskmasters — Hunger  and  Emulation — or 
to  stay  the  hand  of  the  grim  reaper  who  annu- 
ally sends  seven  hundred  thousand  of  them  to 
premature  graves. 

Irrigate!  Drain!  Lime!  Fertilize!  Aye, 
farmer,  do  these  things,  and  you  will  reap  a 
plenteous  harvest.  You  possess  the  knowledge 
and  the  tools, — then  bend  enthusiastically  to 
your  task! 

Educate!  Legislate!  Eeorganize!  Adjust! 
Aye,  citizen,  do  these  things  and  you  will  gain 
a  satisfying  livelihood.  You  possess  the  knowl- 
edge, the  wealth,  the  tools, — then  bend  enthusi- 
astically to  your  task! 

Man  has  heard  the  behests  of  great,  moving, 
virile  ideas,  and  ceasing  to  bow  before  difficul- 
ties, he  has  swept  forward  like  a  conquering 
monarch,  establishing  his  kingdom,  destroying. 


74  SOCIAL  SANITY 

with  the  blazing  torch  of  science  the  superstruc- 
ture of  tradition  and  bigotry;  holding  in  his 
hand  the  tool,  mechanics,  and  directing  his  ac- 
tivities by  the  exercise  of  judgment  and  reason 
he  has  built  a  newer,  nobler  structure  than  the 
one  which  he  destroyed. 

Mechanics!  That  one  word  lies  at  the  foun- 
dation of  all  civilization.  The  kingdom  of  man 
is  built  on  mechanics,  and  since  man  is  the  only 
creature  with  mechanical  possibilities,  it  neces- 
sarily follows  that  man  alone  could  have  con- 
structed such  a  kingdom. 

The  beavers !  the  beavers !  We  have  forgot- 
ten the  beavers,  and  the  ants,  the  bees,  the 
birds,  the  rodents.  They  all  build,  and  in  the 
case  of  beavers  and  ants,  build  in  a  fashion 
truly  marvelous.  Yet,  think — they  have  no 
thumb  and  no  tools!  Apparently,  they  are  in- 
capable of  making  or  of  using  tools.  Man's 
mechanical  genius  has  turned  toolward,  and  it 
is  on  tools  that  his  kingdom  depends.  He  has 
been  well  called  "  the  tool-using  animal." 
From  the  time  when  he  employed  one  stone  to 
shape  another,  until  the  time  when  one  tool 
measures,  mixes,  sorts,  and  bakes  his  loaves  of 
bread  for  him,  all  without  the  touch  of  his  hand, 
man  has  been  building  his  kingdom — building 
it  with  the  tools  which  his  mechanical  genius 
enables  him  to  devise. 

Nay,  you  protest,  but  it  is  not  in  tools  alone 
that  man's  supremacy  lies.     No,  not  in  tools 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  75 

proper, — not  as  you  would  say  exactly  tools, — 
unless  you  take  "  tools  "  in  its  broadest  aspect, 
and  include  in  it  the  tool  of  language,  and 
those  signs  which  have  gradually  become  let- 
ters and  numbers.  They,  too,  are  tools — de- 
vices for  increasing  the  effectiveness  of  human 
thought. 

Whatever  view  one  may  hold  concerning  bi- 
ologic evolution,  however  opposed  one  may  be 
to  the  concept  of  the  growth  of  species, — there 
can  be  no  question  as  to  man's  evolution  of  the 
tool.  Primitive  tribes  still  use  clubs  and  stones ; 
even  the  bow  and  arrow — a  tool  used  at  a  com- 
paratively early  time — is  unknown  to  the  abo- 
rigines of  Australia.  The  tool  is  a  product  of 
evolution.  Printing  presses,  locomotives,  sew- 
ing machines,  double-bitted,  tempered  steel  axes 
were  not  made  in  a  year,  nor  were  they  found 
already  made.  Under  the  eyes  of  our  grand- 
fathers and  of  our  fathers,  they  have  been  cre- 
ated— created  by  the  combination  of  mechanical 
ability  and  scientific  knowledge.  The  mechan- 
ical ability  was  founded  in  the  tools  which  man 
had  made ;  the  scientific  knowledge  was  set  down 
and  accumulated  by  means  of  letters  and  fig- 
ures. 

No  one  man  created  a  tool,  but  each,  labor- 
ing perhaps  for  a  lifetime,  made  some  slight 
improvement  in  the  thing  which  his  ancestors 
had  handed  to  him.  What  untold  ages  may  have 
elapsed  between  the  rude  stick,  broken  by  brute 


76  SOCIAL  SANITY 

force  from  a  tree,  and  used  as  a  weapon,  and 
the  spear,  with  carefully  made  handle  and  stone 
or  metal  head  attached!  We  cannot  tell  the 
years  in  numbers — ^we  can  merely  surmise  them, 
yet  they  passed.  With  what  weary  steps  did 
the  savage  reach  the  throw-stick,  the  boom- 
erang, the  blow- gun,  and  the  bow  and  arrow! 
Yet  these  are  some  of  the  simplest  tools 
which  man  has  made.  No  less  significant  is 
the  evolution  of  the  use  of  fire,  first  for  warmth, 
or  for  cooking,  then  for  such  industrial  uses 
as  the  smelting  of  metals  and  the  manufacture 
of  glass,  and  finally  for  power.  Civilization 
has  been  built  with  fire.  Consider  the  evolution 
of  the  wheel.  A  simple  device  which  you  take 
for  granted,  yet  until  it  was  thought  out  pack- 
animals  and  man's  shoulders  were  the  only 
methods  of  carrying.  With  the  wheel  for  trans- 
portation, came  the  demand  for  roads — first 
wagon  roads  and  now  railroads.  All  of  these 
things  have  come  slowly,  bit  by  bit,  into  the 
consciousness  of  mankind.  With  their  coming 
has  come  civilization — the  product  of  man's 
handiwork. 

About  many  of  these  developments  we  must 
surmise,  but  in  our  own  times  we  see  creations 
surpassing  in  their  marvelousness  aught  that 
has  preceded  them.  It  is  little  more  than  a 
century  since  Benjamin  Franklin  was  playing 
electricity  with  kite-strings  and  keys.  The  elec- 
tricity of  Franklin's  time  was  the  plaything  of 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  77 

men  of  science.  In  a  brief  hundred  years — a 
passing  moment  in  the  history  of  the  human 
race — electricity  has  entered  every  branch  of 
science  and  industry,  revolutionizing  transpor- 
tation, communication,  power  methods,  and 
forms  of  amusement  and  recreation,  medicine, 
and  a  thousand  other  things — and  electricity  is 
but  one  of  scores  of  wonders  of  the  modern 
mechanical  world. 

We  know  these  things,  yet  we  often  fail  to 
recognize  in  them  the  all-important  fact  that 
all  are  the  outcome  of  evolution.  Each  has  been 
made  piece  by  piece,  here  a  little  and  there  a 
little.  Though  some  occasional  scientist  like 
Pasteur  or  Edison  contributes  many  original 
ideas,  the  fact  remains  that  his  contributions 
are  based  on  those  of  his  predecessors,  and  that 
they  constitute  one  link  in  the  line  of  discovery 
which  has  led  to  the  thing  which  we  look  upon 
as  completed  and  as  wonderful.  Yet,  continu- 
ing, what  may  not  the  future  hold  in  store? 
Even  the  most  prolific  and  original  genius  can- 
not rise  out  of  the  life  stream  of  ideas,  dis- 
coveries, and  creations,  of  which  he  is  a  part. 
He  can  direct  the  stream  though,  adding  to  it, 
meanwhile,  elements  which  it  never  contained 
before. 

The  contributions  which  the  past  has  made  to 
civilization  are  wonderful.  Yet,  continuing  for 
the  next  five  thousand  years  the  rate  of  de- 
velopment which  has   characterized  the  past 


78  SOCIAL  SANITY 

five  thousand,  especially  the  past  two  hundred 
years,  what  may  the  future  not  hold  in  store? 

There  is  no  ascertained  limit  to  the  growth 
of  mechanics,  there  are  no  set  boundaries  to 
science,  there  is  therefore  no  known  restriction 
on  the  kingdom  of  man,  because  human  reason 
may  work  new  wonders  in  each  new  century. 
Better  than  all,  man's  wisdom  rests  on  an  ac- 
cumulated knowledge  of  the  ages  which  man 
can  hand  down,  from  generation  to  generation, 
in  his  books. 

The  communication  of  ideas  by  means  of 
symbols  which  might  be  likened  to  mortar,  ce- 
menting the  triumphs  of  one  age  upon  those 
of  another,  is  likewise  the  product  of  an  evolu- 
tionary change, — a  current  in  the  life  stream 
of  the  world.  Walk  into  Central  Park  and  lay 
an  evening  paper  against  the  foot  of  the  obehsk. 
The  contrast  is  grotesque,  yet  the  obelisk  is 
one  tiny  step,  carefully  executed  at  an  enormous 
expenditure  of  human  effort,  in  the  develop- 
ment of  language.  On  all  of  its  great  stone 
surface  there  is  less  than  we  can  to-day  put 
in  a  single  newspaper,  book,  or  magazine. 
Since  the  obelisk  was  chiseled,  men  have  learned 
to  employ  an  alphabet,  to  use  paper,  to  print 
with  types  and  to  make  cheap  books. 

"Whatever  the  origin  of  language,  ages  un- 
doubtedly elapsed  between  the  use  of  spoken 
and  the  use  of  written  speech,  and  we  know 
that  between  the  use  of  writing  and  the  us§ 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  79 

of  printing — the  popularizer  of  knowledge — 
ages  more  passed.  The  education  of  which 
we  are  so  proud  is  the  product  of  phonetic 
speech,  of  writing  with  symbols,  and  of  printing 
with  movable  type.  The  work  of  centuries  at 
last  bears  its  fruition  in  the  text-book,  with 
its  half-tones  and  its  printing.  If  it  was  true 
in  Solomon's  time  that ''  much  study  is  a  weari- 
ness to  the  flesh,  and  of  the  making  of  books 
there  is  no  end,"  how  much  more  horrified 
would  the  good  sage  have  been  could  he  have 
gazed  upon  twenty  million  school  children, 
many  of  them  bespectacled,  poring  over  hun- 
dreds of  millions  of  books,  while,  from  every 
hand,  the  printers,  publishers,  editors,  and 
authors  grind  out  millions  more. 

The  human  race  moves,  after  ages  of  effort, 
along  a  life  stream  which  has  been  trans- 
formed by  the  hands  and  brains  of  man. 
Man,  the  reasoning  being,  aided  by  mechan- 
ics, has  built  a  new  world.  Nature  has  never 
duplicated  the  work  of  man.  The  effort  is  his 
and  the  glory :  the  throne  is  his  and  the  obliga- 
tions of  kingship.  In  this  last  century  man 
has  set  upon  the  throne  of  his  kingdom,  himself 
— the  democracy.  Will  it  then  prove  fit  for  the 
task  of  government?  Can  it  control  this  won- 
der-world of  the  ages?  As  civilization  sweeps 
forward  and  upward,  can  man  giiide  its  hurry- 
ing course?  Literally,  can  man  make  out  of 
his  own  image  and  likeness  a  ruler  worthy  to 


80  SOCIAL  SANITY 

govern  his  kingdom?  Therein  lies  his  second 
great  task.  Like  the  task  of  creating  civiliza- 
tion it  must  be  based  upon  the  word  of  science. 
Like  that  task  too,  it  must  move  from  the  known 
of  the  present  into  the  unknown  of  the  future, 
creating,  with  each  passing  year,  men  and 
women  more  competent  to  direct  advancing  civ- 
ilization. 

Nietzsche  writes  of  this  second  great  task 
of  man, ' '  I  teach  you  beyond  man.  All  hitherto 
have  created  something  beyond  themselves." 
**  In  your  children's  children  ye  shall  make 
amend  for  being  your  fathers'  children.  Thus 
ye  shall  redeem  all  that  is  past." 

The  self-centered  egotist  will  find  that  the 
vibrations  of  Nietzsche's  philosophy  grate  un- 
pleasantly on  his  ear.  He  had  regarded  him- 
self as  the  finality,  now  he  learns,  perhaps,  for 
the  first  time,  that  he  is  not  Omega,  nor  even 
Alpha, — that  he  is  naught,  in  effect,  but  an 
infinitesimal  atom.  It  is  a  disquieting  thought, 
this  relegation  of  the  lord  of  creation  to  a  sec- 
ondary place  in  the  infinite  scheme  of  things. 
Yet,  after  all,  ' '  What,  then,  are  we  ?  " 

Nietzsche  replies  with  brutal  directness  that 
we  are  milestones,  that  we  are  signboards,  point- 
ing toward  progress,  that  we  are  half-way 
houses,  built,  as  if  by  accident,  on  the  path 
which  leads  to  the  super-race.  ' '  What  is  great 
in  man,"  the  brilliant  German  exclaims,  ''  is 
that  he  is  a  bridge  and  not  a  goal."    We  of  to- 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  81 

day  are  a  part  of  the  structure  on  which  is 
erected  the  superstructure  of  to-morrow.  Like 
the  coral  insect,  we  lay  down  our  lives  in  the 
foundation  of  the  present  that  the  future  may 
rise,  palm  crowned,  above  the  white  and  green 
of  the  lapping  water. 

Man  may  be  no  more,  yet  there  is  that  within 
his  soul  which  would  transcend  this  involuntary 
submission  to  a  process, — something  which 
would  rise  above  the  dead  level  of  fatalistic 
doubt,  declaring  that  while  it  is  true  that  the 
twentieth  century  man  is  a  bridge — or  perhaps, 
better,  one  plank  in  a  bridge — connecting  the 
Alpha  and  Omega  of  the  human  species,  he  is 
as  much  more  than  the  mere  passive  agent  as 
the  bridge-builder  is  more  than  the  bridge.  For 
man  differs  from  the  bridge  in  this,  that  with 
deliberate  consciousness  he  is  building  the 
bridge  to  the  Omega  of  the  race.  We  are  the 
bridge, — we  are  also  the  bridge-builders. 

Anyone  who  has  seen  a  cantilever  construc- 
tion in  process  of  erection  will  appreciate  the 
thought.  Tied  with  iron  bands  to  a  foundation 
erected  on  the  bank,  the  great  structure  projects 
out,  sheer  over  the  water,  without  any  apparent 
means  of  support,  while  piece  by  piece  the 
girders  and  beams  are  added.  Yet,  it  is  not  in 
the  bridge  itself  that  we  glory,  so  much  as  in 
the  fact  that  we  have  the  power  to  erect  such 
a  structure. 

Man  has  always  been  a  bridge,  and  a  bridge- 


82  SOCIAL  SANITY 

builder  too.  Since  he  learned  that  a  connection 
exists  between  sex  and  reproduction,  he  has 
built  consciously,  though  never  so  badly.  To- 
day, more  scientific  in  our  knowledge,  we  may 
deliberately  determine  the  character  of  the  hu- 
man bridge  which  we  construct. 

If  modern  science  speaks  correctly — and  we 
have  no  reason  at  all  to  doubt  its  testimony 
in  this  matter — the  racial  qualities  are  handed 
down  from  one  generation  to  the  next  through 
the  germ-plasm  or  life  stream  of  the  human 
species.  While  it  is  practically  impossible  to 
alter  the  characteristics  of  a  germ  cell,  it  is 
possible  to  influence  the  future,  radically,  by 
the  choice  of  parents,  because  on  the  character 
of  the  two  parental  germ  cells  depends  abso- 
lutely the  character  of  the  offspring.  Within 
each  germ  cell  lie  a  group  of  microscopic  lines 
called  chromosomes,  which  contain  the  charac- 
teristics of  the  germ  cell,  and  hence  of  the  future 
being.  When  the  new  organism  is  formed  from 
the  union  of  the  two  parental  cells,  the  lines  in 
the  parental  cells  group  themselves  in  pairs, — 
twelve  pairs  in  the  human  species, — and  this 
grouping  determines  the  characteristics  of  the 
offspring. 

The  Hebrew  woman  utters  a  glad  cry, — ''  I 
have  gotten  a  man  from  the  Lord."  A  new 
beam  has  been  laid — a  new  unit  in  the  completed 
bridge  of  the  human  race.  Is  the  beam  well 
tempered?    Strong?    Elastic?    Rightly  shaped? 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  83 

Ask  that  child's  parents,  for  upon  them  and 
upon  them  only  rests  the  responsibility  for  its 
qualities.    They  are  among  the  bridge-builders. 

Every  marriage  means  potential  bridge  ma- 
terial. Will  this  new  supply  be  structurally 
safe?  Such  a  question  can  be  clearly,  and  nay, 
almost  conclusively,  answered  by  an  analysis 
of  three  or  four  preceding  generations  on  either 
side. 

Such  matters  are  scarcely  open  even  to  quib- 
bling, to-day.  Robust,  healthy,  virile  parentage 
and  grand-parentage  will  almost  surely  mean 
vigorous,  energetic  offspring,  while  defective 
parental  stock  shows  itself  in  the  offspring  in 
a  way  more  or  less  predictable.  Perhaps  the 
Mendelian  formula  does  not  apply  with  abso- 
lute precision.  What  then?  We  still  have  on 
the  one  hand  long  lines  of  able  men  and  women, 
exemplified  in  the  Hohenzollern  family  in  Ger- 
many, and  the  Jonathan  Edwards  family  in  the 
United  States,  while,  on  the  other  hand,  inves- 
tigation shows,  in  scores  of  cases,  long  lines 
of  defect  such  as  is  exhibited  by  the  Zero  family 
abroad,  and  by  the  Jukes  at  home. 

Why  clarify  crystal  spring  water?  Any  man 
who  has  dealt  with  genetics  in  any  form  will 
assure  you  that  parental  ability  or  parental 
defect  are  handed  on  from  one  generation  to 
the  next  with  marvelous  precision. 

How  optimistic  is  Whitman  when  he  thinks 
of  the  coming  race!     ''  I  will  make  the  most 


84  SOCIAL  SANITY 

splendid  race  the  sun  ever  yet  shone  upon," 
he  writes.  In  like  lines  does  Yeats  refer  to 
''  The  great  race  that  is  to  come."  Euskin 
believes  that  "  There  is  as  yet  no  ascertained 
limit  to  the  noblesse  of  person  and  mind  which 
the  human  creature  may  attain."  And  Ellen 
Key  voices  a  prophecy  of  "  A  state  of  culture 
which  will  be  that  of  the  depths,  not,  as  here- 
tofore, of  the  surface  alone ;  a  stage  which  will 
not  be  merely  a  culture  through  mankind,  but 
a  culture  of  mankind." 

Genus  homo,  bridge-builder,  incorporated  in 
the  form  of  civilization,  equipped  with  modern 
scientific  knowledge,  and  supplied  by  nature 
with  the  tools  for  his  task — ^nay,  compelled  by 
nature  to  perform  the  task  unless  he  is  willing 
to  sacrifice  the  right  of  self-perpetuation. 
Genus  homo — the  bridge-builder  to  the  future 
— drawn  pell-mell  by  the  storm  of  forces  rag- 
ing within  him  to  this  perilous  task,  erecting 
the  structure  of  the  human  race.  Tell  us,  O 
philosopher,  as  you  stand  over  the  abyss,  gaz- 
ing out  into  the  unknown,  where  shall  we  lay 
our  next  span?  You  too,  scientist,  testing  the 
materials  as  they  are  brought  forward,  tell 
us,  tell  us!  Will  they  stand  the  strain?  After 
all,  you  can  but  prophesy,  but  whether  we  will 
or  no  we  are  building.  Let  us  hope  that  the 
philosopher  advises  well.  Let  us  believe  that 
the  scientist  finds  the  materials  testing  high, 
else  philosophy  and  science  alike  may  crash 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  85 

together  into  tlie  great  unknown,  tumbling  to 
destruction  with  the  struggling  remnants  of 
Western  civilization. 

Will  man  rule  sagely  and  grandly  in  his  two 
kingdoms?  Can  he  conquer  genus  homo,  as  he 
has  conquered  electricity,  light,  and  the  lesser 
creatures, — discarding  the  qualities  which  lead 
away  from  his  goal,  and  amplifying  those 
which  he  can  advantageously  employ?  He  has 
given  the  scepter  to  his  descendants,  the  de- 
mocracy. Are  they  of  a  stock  which  can  wield 
scepters?    Is  Emerson  right  when  he  says: — 

*'  When  the  statesmen  plow 
Furrows  for  the  wheat, 
When  the  Church  is  social  ivorth, 
When  the  State  house  is  the  hearth, 
Then  the  perfect  State  is  come, 
The  republican  at  home."  * 

We  believe  so!  Confident  in  our  power  to 
make  a  king  as  we  have  made  a  kingdom,  we 
press  forward  to  the  task. 

Yet  the  brain  of  the  democracy  must  be  vig- 
orous and  its  hand  supple,  if  it  is  to  rule  suc- 
cessfully. This  is  no  sinecure, — this  rule  over 
the  kingdom  of  man.    Hear  E.  Ray  Lankester : — 

"  This  is,  indeed,  the  definite  purpose  of  my 
discourse:  to  point  out  that  civilized  man  has 
proceeded  so  far  in  his  interference  with  extra- 

*  Essay  on  "  Politics." 


86  SOCIAL  SANITY 

human  nature,  has  produced  for  himself  and 
the  living  organisms  associated  with  him  such 
a  special  state  of  things  by  his  rebellions  against 
natural  selection  and  his  defiance  of  Nature's 
pre-human  dispositions,  that  he  must  either  go 
on  and  acquire  firmer  control  of  the  conditions 
or  perish  miserably  by  the  vengeance  certain 
to  fall  on  the  half-hearted  meddler  in  great 
affairs.  We  may  indeed  compare  civilized  man 
to  a  successful  rebel  against  Nature  who  by 
every  step  forward  renders  himself  liable  to 
greater  and  greater  penalties,  and  so  cannot 
afford  to  pause  or  fail  in  one  single  step.  Or 
again,  we  may  think  of  him  as  the  heir  to  a 
vast  and  magnificent  kingdom,  who  has  been 
fiinally  educated  so  as  to  fit  him  to  take  posses- 
sion of  his  property,  and  is  at  length  left  alone 
to  do  his  best;  he  has  willfully  abrogated,  in 
many  important  respects,  the  laws  of  his  mother 
Nature  by  which  the  kingdom  was  hitherto  gov- 
erned; he  has  gained  some  power  and  advan- 
tage by  so  doing,  but  is  threatened  on  every 
hand  by  dangers  and  disasters  hitherto  re- 
strained: no  retreat  is  possible — his  only  hope 
is  to  control,  as  he  knows  that  he  can,  the 
sources  of  these  dangers  and  disasters.  They 
already  make  him  wince;  how  long  will  he  sit 
listening  to  the  fairy-tales  of  his  boyhood  and 
shrink  from  manhood's  task?  "  * 

♦"Nature  and  Man,"  E.  R.  Lankester.     Oxford  :  Clarendon 
Press,  1905.     P.  27. 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  87 

Yet,  standing  as  we  do,  facing  the  past,  and 
contemplating  the  present,  we  are  forced  again 
to  the  conclusion  that  civilization  is  a  Becom- 
ing, not  a  Being.  Under  our  very  eyes,  while 
we  gaze  upon  it,  our  kingdom  is  transformed, — 
the  motor  races  ahead  of  the  horse,  the  aero- 
plane glides  into  the  air,  the  moving  picture 
takes  us  among  the  wild  beasts  of  the  African 
jungle,  the  voice  of  the  prima  donna  resounds 
under  our  humble  roof,  the  switches,  interlock- 
ing automatically,  protect  us  as  we  speed  away 
into  the  night,  the  grocer  offers  us  string-beans 
and  strawberries  in  February,  and  industry, 
burning  and  whirring,  pours  into  our  hands  a 
flood  of  things  which  our  minds  have  never  been 
taught  to  covet.  Civilization  is  becoming,  grow- 
ing, changing,  and  whether  we  like  it  or  not, 
we  are  a  part  of  the  change  which  is  occur- 
ring. 

How  idle  to  kick  against  the  pricks!  How 
profane  to  imagine  that  you  or  I,  one  micro- 
scopic unit  in  a  vast  moving  stream,  can  stem 
the  tide  by  standing  still  and  gazing  at  the  past ! 
Imagine  a  soldier  in  the  front  rank  of  a  charg- 
ing battalion  of  cavalry,  stopping  his  horse  and 
standing  still.  Still?  He  would  be  swept  to 
destruction. 

Three  conservative  Elders  controlled  the  pol- 
icy of  a  church  in  a  small  country  town.  Each 
year  the  spirit  of  unrest  grew.  Each  year  it 
became  evident  that  if  this  church  was  to  hold 


88  SOCIAL  SANITY 

its  congregation,  it  must  march  in  step  with 
the  times,  nevertheless  the  Elders  remained 
obdurate  and  the  church  stood  still.  These 
Elders  were,  as  the  name  suggests,  old  men. 
In  their  moments  of  crass  optimism,  they  im- 
agined that  they  might  hold  on  forever  and 
prevent  the  spirit  of  change,  which  was  steal- 
ing into  every  other  church,  from  gaining  an 
entrance  into  theirs;  but  in  their  saner  times, 
they  remembered  that,  all  flesh  being  grass, 
their  turn  would  surely  come,  and  their  hearts 
told  them  that  no  sooner  were  they  gone  and 
rid  of,  than  the  progressive  element  in  the 
church  would  adopt  every  one  of  the  reforms 
against  which  they  had  fought  for  so  many 
years.  The  plight  was  maddening.  They  must 
go ;  they  could  not  take  the  church  with  them ;  so 
that,  at  last,  with  the  assistance  of  the  great 
reaper,  their  enemies  would  triumph.  In  their 
hopeless  rage,  they  gnashed  their  teeth.  Per- 
haps, following  the  suggestion  of  Job's  com- 
forter, they  cursed  God  for  having  made  such 
a  mess  of  things.  They  had  never  learned  that 
the  world  is  a  progression,  and  that  every  insti- 
tution in  the  world — even  the  church — must  re- 
adjust itself  to  the  changing  times. 

When  the  English  weavers  stormed  the  early 
factories,  tearing  out  the  machinery  and  de- 
manding that  the  handicraft  system  of  industry 
be  retained,  they  were  building  a  dam  across 
the  stream   of  progress.     In  their  time,   the 


THE  KINGDOM  OF  MAN  89 

stream  was  running  very  strong,  and  their 
dam  was  like  a  wisp  of  straw  in  a  spring 
freshet. 

Sometimes  these  dams  have  held  for  a  time. 
The  Feudal  System,  for  example,  stayed  in 
France  until  the  end  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, when  it  was  swept  aside  by  a  great  rev- 
olution. The  Caste  System  remains  in  India, 
even  to-day,  although  the  mutterings  from  be- 
neath now  threaten  its  existence.  Time  was 
when  the  Feudal  System  and  the  Caste  System 
benefited  mankind.  In  their  inception  they  were 
more  desirable  types  of  social  organization  than 
the  type  which  preceded  them,  but,  in  the  course 
of  advance,  civilization  has  swept  beyond  them 
and  they  go  down  under  the  tide  of  progress. 

The  part  is  not  greater  than  the  whole.  No 
segment  of  the  human  race  can  stand  perma- 
nently in  the  path  which  leads  toward  the  wel- 
fare of  the  majority.  Social  structure  always 
has  and  always  will  change  in  response  to  the 
immutable  law  that  socially  advantageous  insti- 
tutions always  replace  those  which  are  of  less 
social  advantage. 

Meanwhile  we  as  the  present  rulers  of  the 
kingdom  of  man  bend  earnestly  to  the  task 
before  us.  The  stream  of  life  we  see.  Its  direc- 
tion, its  control,  we  take  upon  ourselves  as 
our  fathers  lay  down  the  burden.  How  shall 
we  meet  the  responsiblities  of  our  kingship? 
How  shape  the  present,  and  mold  the  future  1 


90  SOCIAL  SANITY 

The  past  has  spoken ;  the  present  is  heard ;  the 
future  waits,  a  limitless  silence.  Life  has  de- 
creed that  we  shall  fill  it  with  the  sounds  and 
with  the  echoes  from  voices.  Are  our  children 
not  entitled  to  uplifting  harmonies? 


iv: 

PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM 

What  spirit  shall  breathe  in  man  as  he  looks 
upon  his  kingdom?  How  shall  he  regard  the 
eddying,  swirling  life-stream-current  of  which 
he  is  a  part?  What  thought  shall  be  upper- 
most in  his  mind  as  he  wields  the  scepter  of  his 
authority?  Some  vision,  some  forward  look, 
there  must  be,  else  the  people  perish.  Some- 
times the  two  angles  from  which  life  may  be 
looked  upon  are  described  as  pessimism  and 
optimism. 

Are  you  an  optimist?  If  you  are,  you  believe 
in  the  kingdom  of  man,  in  the  widening  of  its 
borders,  in  the  deepening  of  its  thought,  in  the 
strengthening  of  its  feeling  and  of  its  vision. 
Do  you  believe  that,  through  science,  man  may 
direct  the  life  stream  of  his  existence  and  of 
the  civilization  to  which  he  belongs?  If  you 
are  an  optimist,  you  believe  in  the  possibilities 
of  the  future. 

Are  you  a  pessimist?  If  you  are,  you  have 
no  faith  in  the  kingdom  of  man,  in  its  extent 
or  quality.  You  have  no  faith  in  man 's  ability  to 
direct  the  life  stream.  You  who  are  pessimists 
believe  in  the  possibilities  of  the  past.     The 

91 


92  SOCIAL  SANITY 

optimist  is  a  near-king,  for  Ms  optimism  rests 
upon'  his  potential  achievement,  his  possible 
greatness.  The  pessimist  is  of  the  earth,  earthy, 
failing  in  aspiration  and  in  the  spirt  of  light. 
Hear  Victor  Hugo,  the  great-minded  optimist 
of  French  literature,  as  he  finds  hope,  even 
while  looking  into  the  shadows  which  enshroud 
many  corners  of  the  kingdom  of  man.  *'  And 
yet  some  of  those  who  follow  the  social  clinics 
shake  their  heads  at  times,  and  the  strongest, 
the  most  tender,  and  the  most  logical  have 
their  hours  of  despondency.  Will  the  future 
arrive?  It  seems  as  if  we  may  almost  ask  this 
question  on  seeing  so  much  terrible  shadow. 
There,  in  a  somber  face  to  face  meeting  of  the 
egotist,  we  trace  prejudices,  the  cloudiness  of 
a  caste  education,  appetite  growing  with  intoxi- 
cation, and  prosperity  that  stuns,  a  fear  of 
suffering  which  in  some  goes  so  far  as  an  aver- 
sion from  the  sufferers,  an  implacable  satis- 
faction, and  the  feeling  of  self  so  swollen  that 
it  closes  the  soul.  In  the  wretched  we  find 
covetousness,  envy,  the  hatred  of  seeing  others 
successful,  the  profound  bounds  of  the  human 
wild  beast  at  satisfaction,  and  hearts  full  of 
mist,  sorrow,  want,  fatality,  and  impure  and 
simple  ignorance.  Must  we  still  raise  our  eyes 
to  heaven?  Is  the  luminous  point  which  we 
notice  there  one  of  those  which  die  out?  The 
ideal  is  frightful  to  look  on  thus  lost  in  the 
depths,  small,  isolated,  imperceptible,  and  bril- 


PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM         93 

liant,  but  surrounded  by  all  those  great  black 
menaces  monstrously  collected  around  it;  for 
all  that,  though,  it  is  in  no  more  danger  than  a 
star  in  the  yawning  throat  of  the  clouds."  * 

Men  may  not  overlook  the  shadows  which 
lurk  on  this  side  and  on  that.  Misery,  crime, 
disease,  poverty,  vice,  bespeak  their  own  hid- 
eous possibilities  too  clearly  to  be  forgotten. 
Yet  even  in  their  delineation,  man  may  read 
the  uncompleted  record  of  his  own  greatness — 
the  record  of  that  which  might  have  been  and 
is  not :  the  record  of  that  which  still  may  be. 

Pessimism  is  the  philosophy  of  the  old 
world;  optimism  is  the  philosophy  of  the  new. 
Pessimism  is  a  philosophy  of  misery  and  deficit ; 
optimism  is  a  philosophy  of  joy  and  surplus. 
Pessimism  is  the  last  wail  of  the  jail  bird  on 
his  way  to  the  gallows;  optimism  is  the  song 
of  the  man  who  feels  in  his  soul  that  he  can 
behave  himself  well  enough  to  keep  out  of  jail. 
Pessimism  means  stagnation;  optimism  means 
joyous  activity. 

Are  you  a  pessimist?  Is  your  golden  age  in 
the  past?  Must  men  walk  with  the  head  al- 
ways over  the  shoulder?  Is  there  nothing  in 
front  save  oblivion  or  the  pangs  of  hell  fire? 
Are  we  destined  to  be  broken  on  the  wheel  of 
fortune  whether  or  no?  If  you  answer  these 
questions  in  the  affirmative,  surely  you  are  a 
pessimist. 

•  "  Les  Miserables,"    Part  IV,  Ch.  ccv. 


94  SOCIAL  SANITY 

The  old  world  was  a  world  of  pessimism. 
The  savage  lives  in  a  state  of  constant  terror. 
On  every  side  the  forces  of  nature  present  over- 
whelming odds  to  his  cowering  soul.  He  sac- 
rifices, propitiates,  hopes,  and  fears.  He  is  "  in 
the  fell  grip  of  circumstance,"  so  firmly  that 
by  the  utmost  effort  he  cannot  move  a  hair's 
breadth.  If  the  gods  decree — he  dies,  with  no 
more  say  in  the  matter. 

For  how  many  centuries  has  man  continued 
under  the  domination  of  this  fear  of  nature! 
How  has  he  fawned,  truckled,  wept,  and  im- 
plored! With  what  consequences?  Either  his 
god  did  not  hear  or  else  he  was  away  hunting, 
for  heaven  was  silent. 

Conceive  the  pall  under  which  men  must  have 
lived !  In  western  Europe,  less  than  three  hun- 
dred years  ago,  the  plague  swept  away  the 
population  at  the  rate  of  forty,  fifty,  and  sixty 
persons  in  each  hundred.  At  one  dread  breath 
of  the  pestilence, — in  so  many  weeks, — whole 
villages  were  left  desolated,  uninhabited.  The 
people  had  repented  of  their  sins;  they  had 
cried  aloud  to  Heaven;  they  had  petitioned, 
begged, — all  was  useless.  With  appalling  reg- 
ularity, these  frightful  agents  of  destruction 
reaped  young  men  and  old.  Why?  Simply  be- 
cause they  were  dirty. 

The  cities  of  those  times  had  no  effective 
means  of  sewerage  or  of  garbage  disposal. 
The  streets  were  badly  paved.    Offal  and  refuse 


PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM         95 

of  every  description  piled  up  and  rotted  for 
years.  A  visitor  to  a  modern  Asiatic  city  can 
gain  an  excellent  idea  of  what  the  medieval 
city  must  have  been.  One  hot  dry  summer, 
when  everything  was  ripe  for  its  reception,  the 
bacteria  would  be  brought  into  the  country,  and, 
carried  by  the  flies  or  by  the  vermin  on  the 
rats — both  flies  and  rats  fed  on  the  offal  in  the 
streets — the  plague  spread  with  great  rapidity. 
In  China  and  India,  similar  experiences  occur 
to-day. 

What  wonder  that  such  people  are  pessi- 
mists !  Who  would  not,  under  similar  circum- 
stances, look  gloomily  into  the  future?  Neu- 
ralgia is  bad  enough;  dyspepsia  drives  toward 
pessimism;  and  the  worst  that  we  can  conceive 
is  a  combination  of  rheumatism  and  St.  Vitus' 
dance.    We  do  not  know  plague. 

The  East  still  stoops  before  the  blows  of  fate, 
saying  patiently,  "It  is  the  will  of  Allah! 
Allah's  will  is  mine."  With  such  grand  forti- 
tude, such  calm  resignation  to  the  inevitable 
wretchedness,  do  they  take  what  comes,  silently, 
without  uttering  a  cry.  What  can  be  done? 
Nothing  can  be  done, — "  It  is  the  will  of 
Allah."  To  the  Western  mind,  such  fatalism 
is  utterly  beyond  belief — yet  it  is  a  logical  part 
of  the  pessimism  which  must  exist  so  long  as 
man,  failing  to  appreciate  his  greatness,  fails 
to  take  complete  possession  of  his  kingdom. 

The  answer  of  the  West  to  this  pessimism 


96  SOCIAL  SANITY 

of  tlie  East  is  clear  and  sliarp.  Writing  of 
the  lords,  knights,  and  squires  of  England,  a 
humble  workman  says: — 

"  If  Providence  ordain' d  them  fat 
An'  me  the  lean,  I'll  answer  that. 
If  that  is  true,  then  Gawd's  a  cheat! 
'Ave  they  the  right  to  drink  an'  eat 

At  my  expense? 
Wat's  Providence  a-playin'  at? 

Ain't  'e  no  sense? 

*'  I'd  he  a  better  Gawd  myself! 
I'd  chuck  no  man  upon  the  shelf 
Who  'ad  an  ounce  o'  manly  grit, 
Or  'alf  an  ounce  o'  manly  wit 

To  earn  'is  keep, 
An'  save  a  modest  store  o'  pelf 

Ere  'is  larst  sleep. 

"  That  Gawd,  'e  ain't  no  Gawd  at  all! 
I  wouldn't  'ear  the  babies  call 
Fer  grub,  or  see  the  muvvers  pine, 
Then  style  meself  a  Poiver  Divine, 

Fer  if  'e  bids 
No  sooty  London  sparrer  fall, — 

Wat  price  the  kids? 

'*  The  golden  streets,  beyond  the  grave, 
We  do  not  very  greatly  crave, 
We'd  rather  in  a  'eaven  abide 
Jest  lyke  our  English  countryside — 
So  drat  the  'arp 


PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM         97 

'An'  all  that  gag;  but,  0!  to  save — 
Dear  Gaivd,  look  sharp!  " 

The  old  world  bred  pessimists  because  of  the 
utter  failure  of  man  to  control  his  kingdom. 
Looking  backward  to  the  Garden  of  Eden, 
which  had  been  beautiful  once  upon  a  time,  or 
forward  into  the  distant  future,  where  they 
should  sing  psalms,  or  carouse,  or  hunt,  or  ful- 
fill some  other  ideal  dream,  men  forgot  the 
world  in  which  they  lived.  Their  contempla- 
tion of  ethereal  bliss  won  by  some  such  simple 
act  as  dying,  led  them  to  forget  the  possibilities 
of  creating  bliss  in  the  world  by  working. 
Scarcely  had  it  occurred  to  them  that  it  was 
not  necessary  to  die  in  order  to  win.  In  the 
present  they  saw  no  possibilities  of  blessedness, 
nor  any  hope  of  salvation,  short  of  a  future 
beyond  the  grave. 

Science  sounds  the  death  knell  of  pessimism. 
If  the  world  is  a  process ;  if  Nature  always  ex- 
presses herself  in  change;  if  man  may  direct 
this  change,  securing  continual  improvement, 
why  the  need  for  pessimism?  The  back- 
ward look  must  give  place  to  the  forward 
vision. 

The  pessimist,  seeing  that  the  world  went 
wrong  in  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  lived  and 
mused  in  a  slough  of  despond,  too  benumbed 
by  doubt,  to  make  even  a  pretense  at  consistent 
effort.    The  optimist,  already  on  the  foothills 


98  SOCIAL  SANITY 

of  hope,  sees  the  valleys  and  mountains  of  pro- 
longed effort  before  him,  but  he  also  sees  in 
these  valleys  and  mountains  possibilities, — 
possibilities  in  the  present  world.  He  may 
bridge,  tunnel,  cut,  fill, — Science  tells  him  that. 
The  effort  is  immense,  but  the  goal!  Toward 
these  possibilities  the  spirit  within  him  impels 
him  to  strive.  In  this  realization  he  will  sac- 
rifice his  energy,  his  time,  even  his  life,  if 
need  be,  since  he  sees,  somewhere  on  the  far 
horizon,  better  things  than  any  that  have  yet 
been  known. 

Contrast  the  treatment  of  the  plague  in 
medieval  Europe  with  the  treatment  of  yellow 
fever  in  Cuba  and  on  the  Panama  Canal  Zone. 
Yellow  fever  was  as  much  a  part  of  Cuban  life 
as  mosquitoes,  sugar  cane,  or  the  lazy  blue  of 
the  ocean.  The  Americans  occupied  Havana, 
and  yellow  fever  disappeared.  An  isolated 
case,  once  in  three  or  four  years,  is  all  they 
have  to  report.  How  was  this  marvel  achieved? 
How  was  a  city,  plague  ridden  for  centuries, 
cleaned  of  its  disease?  By  the  simple  process 
of  cleaning  the  streets  and  catching  the  mos- 
quitoes who  carried  the  microbe  of  yellow  fever, 
before  they  clambered  out  of  their  native 
marshes.  In  the  Middle  Ages,  such  a  trans- 
formation would  have  been  looked  upon  as  a 
Heaven-sent  blessing.  To-day,  it  is  recognized 
as  the  logical  effect  of  man's  advancing  dom- 
inance over  his  kingdom. 


PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM         99 

The  optimist  is  not  sure  of  success,  but  lie 
is  hopeful.  He  eschews  fatalism  as  he  would 
any  word  of  the  devil.  Always  he  is  a  thinker 
and  a  believer. 

Carried  to  the  extreme,  optimism  may  be  as 
fatalistic  as  the  most  absurd  pessimism. 
''  Everything  is  bound  to  go  right,"  exclaims 
the  enthusiastic  student  of  social  affairs. 
"  Events  will  shape  themselves  so  that  finally 
all  will  be  well." 

Quickly,  then,  let  us  relax  in  vigilance  in  the 
Canal  Zone,  permit  mosquitoes  to  breed,  allow 
the  hookworm  to  continue  its  ravages,  and  the 
typhoid  bacillus  to  work  destruction.  Let  man 
take  his  hand  for  one  moment  from  the  throttle, 
and  chaos  reigns.  Almost  in  a  twinkling,  chaos 
replaces  order  and  civilized  man  reduced  to 
the  status  of  the  savage,  buffeted  by  Nature, 
fearful  always  for  his  very  life,  would  cease 
to  drive  close  bargains  with  Fate,  and  instead, 
grovel  at  her  footstool.  The  sentiment  will 
hardly  find  a  response  in  the  thoughtful  mind 
any  more  than  Browning's  ''  God's  in  His 
heaven,  all's  right  with  the  world  "  meets  with 
the  approval  of  the  thinker.  Such  crass  op- 
timism leads  nowhere.  It  is  but  another  way 
of  saying,—"  It  is  the  will  of  Allah.  Allah's 
will  is  mine." 

After  describing  this  and  another  type  of 
optimistic  fatalism,  Professor  Patrick  describes 
what   he   terms    "  The   New    Optimism," — an 


100  SOCIAL  SANITY 

optimism  based  on  science  and  belief,  and  lead- 
ing to  virile  effort.  This  true  optimism  of  the 
twentieth  century  "  might  be  called  dynamic, 
or  practical,  or  psychological  optimism.  It 
concerns  itself  with  no  theoretical  questions  as 
to  whether  the  world  is  the  best  possible  one 
or  not.  It  has  for  its  motto — The  world  is 
pretty  good,  and  we  will  make  it  better."  This 
optimism  of  progress  repudiates  the  idea  of  the 
good  old  times.  "  In  the  museum  at  Constan- 
tinople the  writer  saw  an  inscription  upon  an 
old  stone.  It  was  by  King  Naram  Sin  of  Chal- 
dea,  3800  b.c,  and  it  said : — 

'^  '  We  have  fallen  upon  evil  times 
And  the  world  has  waxed  very  old  and  wicked. 
Politics  are  very  corrupt. 
Children    are   no    longer   respectful   to    their 
parents.' 

*'  This  old  and  ever  recurring  complaint," 
comments  Professor  Patrick, ''  does  not  depend 
upon  any  deterioration  of  the  times,  for  the 
times  are  constantly  growing  better.  It  comes 
usually  from  older  people  whose  outlook  may 
be  biased  by  subjective  conditions  due  to  de- 
caying powers  and  by  the  tendency  to  regard 
all    changes    as    changes    for    the    worse."* 

*"  The  New  Optimism,"  G.  T.  W.  Patrick.     Popular  Science 
Monthly,  May,  1913,  Vol.  LXXXII,  p.  493. 


PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM       101 

Change  then  will  be  inevitable.  Man  may  say 
only  what  form  that  change  shall  take. 

Man's  kingdom  is  a  good  kingdom,  but  over 
it,  suspended  by  a  hair,  hangs  the  sword  of 
Damocles.  A  moment  of  relaxed  vigilance — a 
generation  of  dissipated  indifference, — vermin 
have  bred  on  the  offal  of  civilization,  a  rat  has 
gnawed  the  hair  by  which  the  destruction  was 
suspended,  the  sword  falls,  shattering  the 
mighty  triumphs  of  the  Western  world  and 
hurling  man  again  into  an  abyss  of  darkness. 
Civihzation  hangs  suspended  by  the  veriest  hair 
of  human  effort.  Eternal  activity  is  the  price 
of  dehverance.  Eternal  activity,  aye,  until, 
one  day,  who  knows?  May  not  a  solution  be 
compounded  in  which  the  sword  of  civilization's 
danger  may  be  dissolved  and  scattered  far  and 
wide  over  the  face  of  the  deep? 

Civilization,  in  this  dilemma,  turns  to  the 
optimist  for  the  words  of  life,  for  in  optimism 
lies  social  salvation — not  the  salvation  of  the 
idler,  but  that  of  the  enthusiastic  worker. 

"  If  we  will,"  cries  the  optimist,  as  he  sur- 
veys the  Augean  Stables  of  Civilization,  "  if 
we  will,  we  may." 

He  may — nay,  he  must, — for  the  spirit  of 
his  task  drives  him  to  his  labor.  The  optimist 
cannot  bear  the  world  as  it  is.  His  very  nature 
forces  him  to  make  it  what  he  believes  it  ought 
to  be.  Nor  does  he,  like  Hercules,  waste  more 
than  he  creates.    The  optimist  has  learned  that 


102  SOCIAL  SANITY 

beauty  grows  from  the  most  repulsive  ugliness, 
hence,  as  he  labors  he  employs  every  atom  of 
filth  from  the  stables  for  the  raising  of  roses, 
lettuce,  corn,  and  dahlias,  mignonette,  and  vio- 
lets, to  minister  to  the  body  and  soul  needs  of 
those  who  bear  the  burden  of  life's  day. 

Pessimism  is  social  suicide.  The  crass  op- 
timism which  believes  that  everything  must 
turn  out  right  is  nothing  less.  Sane  optimism  is 
the  spinal  column  of  social  progress.  The  true 
optimist  is  a  worker — frankly  recognizing  the 
magnitude  of  the  task  before  him  and  as  frankly 
believing  that  it  is  within  his  power,  and  that 
of  his  descendants,  to  accomplish  that  task. 

The  optimist  relies  on  knowledge,  but  he  re- 
lies no  less  absolutely  upon  belief.  In  the  dis- 
tance, he  sees  the  vision  of  a  nobler  race,  living 
in  an  environment  superior  to  anything  hitherto 
known.  They  are  the  descendants  of  his  gen- 
eration. They  are  reaping  the  fruits  of  his 
effort.  He  glories  in  their  nobility,  in  the  rich- 
ness of  their  lives,  and  with  the  eyes  of  his 
spirit  on  this  vision,  he  labors.  Thus  has  every 
artist,  poet,  scientist,  statesman  labored,  look- 
ing forward,  hopefully,  toward  the  goal  which 
the  eyes  of  his  inner  consciousness  saw  in  the 
distance  and  toiling  toward  it  with  the  enthu- 
siasm of  a  child  or  of  a  genius. 

Optimism  is  a  belief  in  the  possibility  of 
preserving  the  race  and  raising  its  standards 
through  successive  generations. 


PESSIMISM  AND  OPTIMISM       103 

In  the  past,  the  standards  of  life  have  been 
constantly  raised,  through  successive  stages. 
The  biologic  world  has  been  improved  genera- 
tion after  generation  by  means  of  a  process 
which  eliminated  the  unfit  and  allowed  only 
the  fit  individual  members  of  a  species  to  sur- 
vive and  propagate  their  fitness.  In  exactly 
the  same  way  social  institutions  have  been  im- 
proved by  replacing  the  worthless  elements 
with  newer  and  more  worth-while  forms.  With- 
out such  a  selection  of  the  best,  no  species  and 
no  society  could  endure.  By  means  of  it,  the 
best  in  each  generation  is  preserved  for  the 
future,  while  the  rest  is  cast  away. 

This  is  nature's  method  of  protecting  her- 
self against  deterioration.  Hence  all  who  raise 
the  "  back  to  nature  "  cry  should  welcome  it 
with  glad  hearts,  recognizing  it  as  the  conceiver 
of  progress,  the  savior  of  civilization.  In  so 
far  as  man  is  to  make  a  success  of  civilization. 
Nature's  task  of  selection  must  be  his  method 
too.  Everywhere,  without  regard  to  individual 
hardship,  he  must  reject  the  worthless,  and  re- 
tain only  that  which  is  worth  while.  Only  thus 
will  the  instruments  of  civilization  and  progress 
be  continually  improved. 

The  primitive  man  used  a  tool  or  a  weapon 
because  it  had  been  used  by  his  father.  The 
modern  manufacturer  throws  away  a  more  de- 
sirable tool  than  any  ever  possessed  by  the 
savage,  because  he  has  found  a  better  one.    The 


104  SOCIAL  SANITY 

modern  navy  discards  expensive,  intricate,  mur- 
dering devices  because  more  effective  ones  are 
to  be  iiad.  The  school  teacher  turns  from  the 
old  method  to  the  new.  The  doctor  lays  aside 
his  dirty  ways  and  practices  antiseptic  surgery. 
The  farmer,  no  longer  guided  by  the  moon  or 
the  planets,  reaps  a  rich  reward  from  the  adop- 
tion of  scientific  methods  of  agriculture.  Each 
man  is  learning  that  the  law  of  nature  is  im- 
mutable because  it  is  right, — the  more  worthy 
alone  may  remain;  the  less  worthy  must  dis- 
appear. 

Whether  in  science,  education,  industry,  or 
politics,  this  truth  is  getting  fast  hold  of  men's 
souls.  They  are  learning  that,  since  life  is  a 
becoming  and  since  man  may  will  to  direct  it, 
guided  by  his  visions  of  the  future,  could  all 
possess  an  optimistic  attitude  toward  life,  soci- 
ety might  readily  preserve  itself  in  the  pres- 
ent, and  continually  raise  its  standards  through 
succeeding  generations.  Hence,  at  the  basis 
of  social  sanity  lie  optimism  and  vision  applied 
through  the  preservation  of  the  best  in  each 
generation;  hence  at  the  basis  of  man's  king- 
dom lies  a  staunch  belief  in  man's  potentialities. 


LIFE  AND  LIVING 

The  pessimism  or  optimism  of  world  vision 
is  reflected  in  each  life.  As  the  man  believeth 
in  his  soul,  so  is  he.  Those  who  look  hopefully 
into  the  future — who  have  faith  in  the  possi- 
bilities of  the  kingdom  of  man — cannot  but  re- 
flect such  beliefs  in  a  buoyant  spirit  of  effective 
living.  Those  who,  on  the  other  hand,  dwell 
perpetually  in  the  "  good  old  times  "  must 
fail  in  effectiveness  because  they  fail  in  stimu- 
lus to  sane  living.  The  life-spirit  makes  the 
man. 

Each  individual  who  dwells  in  the  kingdom 
of  man  plays  a  part  in  making  and  directing 
the  life  stream  of  the  kingdom.  Each  one  lives 
a  life.  It  is  not  possible  that  the  spirit  of  a 
kingdom  can  rise  above  the  spirit  of  its  citi- 
zens. The  spirit  of  the  kingdom  of  man  is  the 
spirit  of  its  citizens,  hence  the  sanity  of  life 
in  this  kingdom  must,  in  the  last  analysis,  rest 
back  upon  the  individual  lives  of  which  the 
whole  life  stream  of  the  kingdom  is  composed. 

Accepting  the  statement  made  in  an  earlier 
section,  that  sanity  is  a  relative  idea,  having 

105 


106  SOCIAL  SANITY 

as  its  basis  the  thought  of  self-preservation 
and  self-perpetuation  as  it  is  revealed  in  the 
feelings  of  the  normal  man,  let  us  ask  our- 
selves frankly  the  question, — Is  American  life 
sane?  Does  the  individual  live  in  a  manner 
which  he  believes  to  be  best  calculated  to  in- 
sure his  preservation  and  the  preservation  of 
those  who  are  to  come  after  him?  He  is  a 
citizen  of  the  kingdom;  a  part  of  the  life 
stream  of  society;  how  sane  is  his  individual 
life?  Does  he  believe  that  it  is  sane?  Do  we 
believe  that  it  is  sane?  To  each  individual  the 
test  must  ultimately  be  applied.  Is  he  pursuing 
in  his  actions  and  dealings  the  course  that  a 
policy  of  sanity  would  dictate  ?  As  a  part  of  a 
great  pulsing  world,  he  moves  forward  toward 
— what?  He  strives  for — what?  Are  his  ends 
and  his  methods  such  as  a  spirit  of  individual 
and  social  sanity  would  sanction?    Let  us  see. 

Perhaps  the  simplest  of  all  the  facts  which 
men  have  to  face  is  the  fact  of  living.  The 
simplest?  Well,  no,  it  is  rather  the  most  com- 
monplace. In  truth,  men  are  apt  to  take  living, 
like  breathing,  as  a  matter  of  course.  After 
a  few  years  of  keen  sensory  pleasure  in  living, 
it  becomes  a  reflex. 

Living  has  formed  the  subject  of  many  a 
Puritan  homily  and  Cavalier  romance,  yet  no- 
where has  more  been  said,  in  short  space,  than 
by  Eobert  Louis  Stevenson,  in  his  little  essay — 
**  Aes  Triplex."    Stevenson,  unlike  most  of  his 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  107 

fellows,  lived,  organically  at  least,  from  hand 
to  mouth.    Having  one  foot  in  the  grave,  urged 
on  by  the  oft-repeated  assurance  of  his  physi- 
cians that  he  would  last  but  so  many  days  or 
weeks,  he  naturally  acquired  an  interest  in  life. 
Hence  the  poems,  songs,  and  essays  that  he 
wrote  reflected,  in  a  peculiar  sense,  the  soul 
of  a  man  who  was  enraptured  with  life  and 
living.    He  writes  of  both  as  something  outside 
of  himself,  yet  sympathetically,  and  in  a  kindly 
spirit  that  makes  a  universal  appeal.    He  be- 
gins his  essay  on  death  by  stating  it  as  his 
opinion  that  men  do  not  fear  death;  they  are 
interested  in  life.     Nor  are  they  deeply  con- 
cerned with  life  as  the  philosopher  sees  it.    Ab- 
stract philosophy,  Stevenson   says,   "  has  the 
honor  of  laying  before  us,  with  modest  pride, 
her  contribution  towards  the  subject;  that  life 
is  a  Permanent  Possibility  of  Sensation.    Truly 
a  fine  result !    A  man  may  very  well  love  beef, 
or  hunting,  or  a  woman ;  but  surely,  surely,  not 
a  Permanent  Possibility  of  Sensation !    He  may 
be  afraid  of  a  precipice,  or  a  dentist,  or  a  large 
enemy  with  a  club,  or  even  an  undertaker's  man ; 
but  not  certainly  of  abstract  death.    We  may 
trick  with  the  word  life  in  its  dozen  senses 
until  we  are  weary  of  tricking;  we  may  argue 
in  terms  of  all  the  philosophies  on  earth,  but 
one  fact  remains  true  throughout — that  we  do 
not  love  life,  in  the  sense  that  we  are  greatly 
preoccupied  about  its  conservation;  that  we  do 


108  SOCIAL  SANITY 

not,  properly  speaking,  love  life  at  all,  but  liv- 
ing." 

The  closing  paragraph  of  this  brief  essay 
contains  a  spirited  statement  of  his  philosophy 
of  life.  "  It  is  better  to  lose  health  like  a  spend- 
thrift than  to  waste  it  like  a  miser.  It  is  better 
to  live  and  be  done  with  it,  than  to  die  daily 
in  the  sick-room.  By  all  means  begin  your 
folio;  even  if  the  doctor  does  not  give  you  a 
year,  even  if  he  hesitates  about  a  month,  make 
one  brave  push  and  see  what  can  be  accom- 
plished in  a  week.  It  is  not  only  in  finished 
undertakings  that  we  ought  to  honor  useful  la- 
bor. A  spirit  goes  out  of  the  man  who  means 
execution,  which  outlives  the  most  untimely  end- 
ing. All  who  have  meant  good  work  with  their 
whole  hearts  have  done  good  work,  although 
they  may  die  before  they  have  the  time  to  sign 
it.  Every  heart  that  has  beat  strong  and  cheer- 
fully has  left  a  hopeful  impulse  beliind  it  in 
the  world,  and  bettered  the  tradition  of  man- 
kind. And  even  if  death  catch  people,  like  an 
open  pitfall,  and  in  mid-career,  laying  out  vast 
projects,  and  planning  monstrous  foundations, 
flushed  with  hope,  and  their  mouths  full  of 
boastful  language;  they  should  be  at  once 
tripped  up  and  silenced ;  is  there  not  something 
brave  and  spirited  in  such  a  termination?  And 
does  not  life  go  down  with  a  better  grace,  foam- 
ing in  full  body  over  a  precipice,  than  miser- 
ably  straggling  to   an   end   in   sandy   deltas! 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  109 

When  the  Greeks  made  their  fine  saying  that 
those  whom  the  gods  love  die  young,  I  cannot 
help  believing  they  had  this  sort  of  death  also 
in  their  eye,  for  surely,  at  whatever  age  it  over- 
take the  man,  this  is  to  die  young.  Death  has 
not  been  sutfered  to  take  so  much  as  an  illusion 
from  his  heart.  In  the  hot-fit  of  life,  a-tiptoe 
on  the  highest  point  of  being,  he  passes  at  a 
bound  on  to  the  other  side.  The  noise  of  the 
mallet  and  chisel  are  scarcely  quenched,  the 
trumpets  are  hardly  done  blowing,  when,  trail- 
ing with  him  clouds  of  glory,  this  happy-starred, 
full-blooded  spirit  shoots  into  the  spiritual 
land." 

Although  dying  daily  in  his  sickroom,  Steven- 
son could  pen  his  deathless  Requiem, — 

"  Under  the  wide  and  starry  sky 
Dig  the  grave  and  let  me  lie; 
Glad  did  I  live  and  gladly  die, 
And  I  laid  me  doivn  with  a  will." 

What  more  splendid  fortitude  could  issue  from 
the  strongest  soul!  What  higher  view  of  life 
could  man  take, — to  live  gladly;  to  die  gladly! 
Truly,  here  was  a  philosopher! 

Yet  Stevenson  does  not  stand  alone — far  from 
it, — the  same  buoyant  enthusiasm  which  charged 
his  spirit  may  be  met  on  every  street  corner. 
Stevenson  was  a  man ;  Stevenson  could  use  his 


110  SOCIAL  SANITY 

pen  in  an  incomparable  manner,  hence  Ms  phi- 
losophy comes  to  ns  clothed  in  lucid  rhetoric. 
How  many  there  are  who  believe  his  philosophy, 
and  daily  practice  it,  unheralded  to  the  world! 

Years  ago,  I  knew  a  boy  who  overflowed  with 
the  joy  of  enthusiastic  life.  His  energy  carried 
him  everywhere  and  carried  his  fellows  with 
him.  There  was  a  spirit,  in  his  frank,  clear 
blue  eyes,  that  made  him  irresistible,  so  that 
even  his  worse  pranks  were  forgiven.  Loved 
and  loving,  he  was  the  pride  of  all  of  us.  Never 
have  I  met  a  being  more  filled  with  potential 
power. 

A  few  days  since,  I  sat  beside  the  bed  where 
he  has  been  lying  for  nearly  three  years, 
gripped,  through  no  fault  or  carelessness  of  his, 
by  a  bacterial  poison  which  has  affected  every 
joint  in  his  body.  When  I  saw  him,  he  had  just 
undergone  a  severe  operation  which  meant  life- 
long lameness. 

Before  he  underwent  the  operation,  he  wrote 
to  a  friend,  '^  If  I  pull  through  the  operation, 
I  will  get  well  and  you  will  hear  from  me.  If 
I  don't  live  through  it,  father  will  write  to 
you."  Such  words  come  nobly  from  a  boy  of 
sixteen,  and  when  I  talked  with  him  I  found 
him  no  less  valorous  than  his  words  implied. 
Although  he  has  slipped  forward  and  backward, 
on  his  slow  road  to  recovery,  he  faced  the  fu- 
ture in  the  same  hopeful  spirit.  The  operation, 
severe  in  the  last  degree,  did  not  cure  him,  as 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  111 

he  had  anticipated,  yet  he  greeted  me  with  all 
the  cordiality  which  our  years  of  separation 
might  have  warranted. 

While  I  sat  there,  before  the  spirit  of  this 
superman,  he  showed  me  his  camera,  and  told 
me  how,  from  his  bed,  he  took  pictures,  devel- 
oped and  printed  them;  showed  me  his  man- 
dolin, which  lay  under  his  pillow,  and  told  me 
how  he  had  learned  to  play;  described  to  me, 
in  detail,  his  experiments  in  crocheting  (I  have 
since  had  an  opportunity  to  see  some  of  his 
work,  which  is  extremely  tine) ;  told  me  more 
than  I  had  ever  heard  before  of  the  science 
of  aeronautics ;  named  all  of  his  old  friends  by 
name,  sending  them  all  sorts  of  messages ;  and 
then,  when  train  time  was  cutting  short  our 
visit,  told  me  in  parting  that  he  was  fairly  con- 
fident now  that  he  was  on  the  road  to  recovery, 
that  if  he  recovered  he  was  going  to  college, 
but  that  if,  in  the  end,  things  turned  against 
him,  he  was  satisfied  that  way  too.  If  he  had 
a  life  before  him,  he  would  live  it  full,  but  if 
he  had  not,  why,  then,  he  would  live  his  best 
until  the  end  came. 

May  I  say,  without  offense,  that  I  felt,  when 
I  left  that  boy,  as  Moses  might  have  felt  after 
his  encounter  with  the  spirit  of  God  in  the  burn- 
ing bush  ?  Why  not  ?  Had  not  I  too  encountered 
the  spirit  of  the  Living  God? 

Should  you  regard  such  a  case  as  exceptional, 
ask  any  physician  of  a  wide  experience,  and 


112  SOCIAL  SANITY 

he  will  duplicate  it  a  hundred  times.  Such 
strong  souls — such  manly  men — are  men  at  their 
best.  The  crass  part  of  existence  has  fallen 
away  from  them.  Standing  on  the  threshold 
betwixt  life  and  death,  facing  the  issues  of 
living  as  they  are  presented,  they  choose  life, 
so  long  as  they  may  live, — taking  its  richest, 
fullest  essence, — and  when  they  may  no  longer 
live,  they  accept  death  with  the  same  glad  spirit 
in  which  they  accepted  life.  It  is  so  that  Leon- 
idas  and  his  men  lived  and  died  at  Thermop- 
ylae— dressing  themselves  with  scrupulous  care, 
going  gladly  into  battle,  and  at  last,  betrayed 
and  taken  in  the  rear,  dying  with  a  dignity 
which  became  their  lives.  Thermopylae  is  not 
alone.  The  Japanese  soldiers  who  walked  up 
to  one  of  the  gates  of  Pekin,  set  down  a  great 
charge  of  dynamite,  and  stood  there,  defending 
it  against  a  sortie,  until  it  exploded,  were  no 
less  brave.  Each  campaign  supplies  a  host  of 
similar  instances. 

Peace,  too,  has  her  victories  for  the  human 
soul.  Socrates,  Jesus,  and  Galileo  tasted  the 
cup  of  martyrdom  for  the  mere  assertion  of 
their  beliefs.  The  scientist  who  studies  yellow 
fever  at  first  hand,  and  dies  discovering  the 
remedy  for  the  scourge,  deserves  no  less  a  name. 

Not  alone  on  the  field  of  battle,  not  alone 
in  the  laboratory  and  the  rostrum,  not  alone 
on  the  sick-bed  do  men  formulate  and  adopt  a 
philosophy  of  life.    All  men  cannot  be  soldiers 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  113 

or  scientists  or  even  invalids,  but  all  men  live 
with  that  strong  fortitude  which  becomes  man- 
hood. 

Granting  the  splendor  of  the  human  soul,  is 
our  life  sane?  Admitting  the  possibilities  of 
human  grandeur,  are  our  lives  and  the  lives 
of  those  about  us  worthy  the  title?  Ah!  You 
hesitate.  Is  there  then  some  doubt?  How  in- 
evitable! People  looking  through  the  eyes  of 
the  East  doubt.     G.  Lowe  Dickinson  writes: — 

"  And  when  I  look  at  your  business  men,  the 
men  whom  you  most  admire;  when  I  see  them 
hour  after  hour,  day  after  day,  year  after  year, 
toiling  in  the  mill  of  their  forced  and  unde- 
lighted  labors;  when  I  see  them  importing  the 
anxieties  of  the  day  into  their  scant  and  grudg- 
ing leisure,  and  wearing  themselves  out  less 
by  toil  than  by  carking  and  illiberal  cares,  I 
reflect,  I  confess,  with  satisfaction  on  the  sim- 
pler routine  of  our  ancient  industry,  and  prize, 
above  all  your  new  and  dangerous  routes,  the 
beaten  track  so  familiar  to  our  accustomed  feet 
that  we  have  leisure,  even  while  we  pace  it,  to 
turn  our  gaze  up  to  the  eternal  stars."  To  be 
sure.  Western  Civilization  is  moving.  Whither? 
Ah!  we  had  not  thought  of  that.  We  were  in 
too  much  of  a  hurry.  Inoculated  with  the 
American  "  rush  "  bacteria,  we  hasten  on,  and 
on,  and  on. 

Consider  this  case  of  a  man  who  lived  in  a 
suburb  of  New  York.    One  train,  leaving  his 


114  SOCIAL  SANITY 

suburb  at  7:58,  made  the  run  to  Jersey  City 
without  a  stop.  Each  day  the  man  planned  to 
take  this  train.  He  rose  at  6:45;  began  his 
breakfast  at  7 :20 ;  and  at  7 :50  climbed  into  his 
carriage  and  started  for  the  station.  Most 
people  allowed  ten  minutes  for  the  drive  to  the 
station,  but  our  friend  always  saved  two  min- 
utes in  the  last  quarter-mile.  Eegularly,  each 
morning,  the  7:58  pulled  into  the  station,  and 
the  hurrying  commuters  turned  their  heads  to 
see,  two  hundred  yards  down  the  street,  a  pair 
of  handsome  bay  horses,  plunging  full  gallop 
toward  the  train.  The  carriage  reached  the 
train  as  it  was  starting,  the  man  leaped  out, 
grasped  the  handles  of  the  last  coach,  and 
swinging  himself  aboard  with  a  sigh  of  relief 
he  settled  back  in  his  seat  to  peruse  one  of 
the  morning  papers.  The  first  stage  of  his 
day's  work  was  over. 

At  Jersey  City,  a  hurried  dash— a  hundred 
yards  at  least — took  the  gentleman  to  the  ferry. 
Once  on  the  New  York  side,  another  dash  of 
a  hundred  yards  took  him  to  a  cab,  which, 
driven  fast  by  the  fee-promised  cabman,  soon 
reached  the  office  where  the  commuter,  divest- 
ing himself  of  his  street  garments,  sat  down, 
read  two  other  papers,  and  then  went  about 
the  office  work  of  the  day.  At  five  the  hurry- 
ing process  was  reversed,  although  the  drive 
from  the  station  to  the  house  was  peaceful.  So 
he  lived  all  of  his  days,  cutting  the  corners 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  115 

close  in  order  to  save  time,  yet  always  in  a 
hurry. 

*'  What  a  number  of  time-saving  devices  you 
have  here,"  said  a  visitor  to  a  New  Yorker. 

The  New  Yorker,  expanding  with  pride, 
showed  the  elevated,  the  subways,  the  surface 
lines,  the  tubes,  the  elevators,  and  the  mail 
chutes.  The  visitor  was  greatly  impressed,  yet 
as  a  reasoning  creature  he  must  put  one  ques- 
tion. 

''  Just  the  same,"  he  demurred,  '^  with  all 
of  your  time-saving  knick-knacks,  I  never  was 
in  a  place  where  people  had  less  time.  What 
do  you  do  with  all  of  the  time  that  you  save  ?  ' ' 

"  Why,"  stammered  the  cosmopolite,  "  why, 
we " 

''  I  see,"  interrupted  the  provincial,  "  you 
use  it  in  making  more  devices  to  save  more 
time,  which  you  can  again  use  to  make  more 
devices  and  so  on  until,  having  saved  time  in 
all  possible  directions,  you  have  not  a  particle 
of  time  left.    Queer,  isn't  it?  " 

Isn't  it  queer?  In  the  place  where  the  most 
time  is  saved,  men  have  the  least.  Nor  is  the 
time-saving  mania  confined  to  men.  Women 
too  save  time  in  many  little  ways,  and  then 
squander  these  savings  in  many  other  little 
ways,  reaching  the  end  of  the  day  with  a  heavy 
deficit. 

American  women  have  kept  the  pace,  vali- 
antly.   Let  any  man  who  thinks  that  he  is  in 


116  SOCIAL  SANITY 

training  for  crew  or  track,  attach  himself  to  a 
busy  woman,  follow  her  through  breakfast; 
through  the  intricacies  of  a  toilet  that  baffles 
description  or  duplication;  into  street  habili- 
ments; to  the  station;  into  town  on  a  nerve- 
racking  train;  into  the  shopping  district  for 
two  hours  of  standing  and  pushing  which  would 
exhaust  a  vigorous  street-peddler;  to  the  li- 
brary; to  the  music  store;  to  luncheon;  to  the 
hair-dresser's;  to  the  extension  lecture  course; 
to  the  store  again  for  a  forgotten  pattern;  to 
the  station,  the  train,  and  the  home ;  into  a  din- 
ner costume;  to  a  five-course  dinner;  to  a 
friend's  house  for  the  evening.  Think,  you 
robust,  well-trained  athlete,  of  the  condition 
of  utter  fatigue  which  would  grip  your  frame 
at  ten  the  next  morning.  But  does  the  woman 
mind  it?  Not  at  all.  To-morrow  she  will  do 
it  over  again,  relieving  the  monotony  by  a  dash 
of  suffrage,  a  changed  costume,  a  tea,  a  dinner 
call,  or  some  other  diverting  activity. 

''  Broken  nerves?  " 

"  Yes." 

''  Dyspepsia?  " 

*'  Certainly." 

''  Shattered  health?  " 

*'  Of  course,  but  everybody " 

Yes,  everybody  is  doing  it.  Why?  For  two 
reasons.  First,  because  it  is  such  fun  to  hurry 
that  before  you  know  it  you  are  in  the  hurry- 
ing spirit,  moving  along  so  fast  that  it  is  im- 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  117 

possible  to  stop  short  of  the  happiness  which 
all  are  hurrying  to  find;  and  second,  because 
men  think  that  by  hurrying  they  will  be  able 
to  amass  things,  goods,  lands,  homes,  fur  coats, 
Swiss  watches,  automobiles,  and  all  of  the  long 
train  of  useful  articles  and  bootless  trumpery 
which  fills  the  store  windows  and  the  lives  of 
those  who  can  afford  to  buy  them. 

Probably,  if  the  truth  were  said,  the  desire 
for  things  lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  hurry  and 
turmoil  of  American  life. 

Pause  a  moment,  analyze  the  goal  toward 
which  the  hurrying  throng  is  moving.  They, 
of  course,  have  never  paused,  for  they  have  had 
so  little  time !  What  value  have  things  f  Only 
this,  that  by  supplying  men's  wants,  they  make 
for  happiness.  The  wants  of  men,  yearning 
toward  happiness,  give  rise  to  a  demand  for 
things. 

Wants  may  be  natural — those  which  involve 
the  necessaries  of  existence:  food,  clothing,  and 
shelter — or  they  may  be  acquired.  Most  wants 
are  acquired, — their  acquisition  depending  upon 
education  and  circumstances.  The  knowledge 
of  new  tilings  brings  with  it  new  wants.  For 
the  table  cover,  we  need  a  table;  for  the  table 
a  room;  for  the  room  a  house;  and  for  the 
house  a  new  lot.  To  be  sure,  the  process  may 
be  reversed,  but  there  follows,  in  the  train  of 
each  want  satisfied,  a  series  of  new  wants, 
made  larger  by  each  suggestion  of  the  possi- 


118  SOCIAL  SANITY 

bilities  of  more  things.  Thus  the  satisfaction 
of  wants  carries  with  it,  as  a  necessary  corol- 
lary, the  creation  of  new  wants,  so  that  as  civ- 
ilization progresses,  and  the  number  of  things 
to  be  had  increases,  the  wants  of  the  individual 
increase,  if  not  in  a  geometrical,  then  certainly 
in  an  arithmetical,  progression. 

The  things  upon  which  the  satisfaction  of 
wants  depends  can  be  secured  in  only  one  legiti- 
mate way,  that  is  through  income,  hence  upon 
income  depends  the  possibility  of  want  satis- 
faction. Does  income,  like  wants,  increase  in 
an  arithmetical  ratio?  Well,  perhaps  your  ex- 
perience differs  from  that  of  most  of  us.  Our 
incomes  crawl  forward  at  a  ratio  that  savors 
not  so  much  of  mathematics  as  of  the  snail. 

The  difference  between  wants  and  income 
measures  the  extent  of  a  man's  dissatisfaction, 
— misery.  Dr.  Patten  calls  it.  If  a  naked  sav- 
age wants  two  fish  for  breakfast  and  can  catch 
only  one,  he  is  miserable;  if  a  fine  lady  wants 
a  diamond  tiara  to  wear  in  the  opera  box,  and 
cannot  secure  it,  she  is  miserable;  if  a  farmer 
has  a  buggy  and  wants  an  automobile  which 
he  cannot  afford  to  purchase,  he  is  miserable. 
All  of  these  dissatisfactions  result  from  the 
discrepancy  which  exists  between  wants  and 
the  means  of  satisfying  wants, — income.  Hence, 
wants  minus  income  equals  dissatisfaction. 

Consider  the  next  point.  Wants  are  limitless. 
If  experience  teaches  anything  it  is  that  there 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  119 

is  no  end  to  the  variety  of  things  which  man 
can  make  and  advertise  to  his  fellows;  hence 
there  is  no  limit  to  the  number  and  variety 
of  things  which  he  may  desire  to  have.  On 
the  other  hand,  there  seems  to  be  no  imme- 
diate limit  to  the  number  of  things  which  a 
certain  individual  may  want.  Income,  however, 
is  definitely  limited — for  the  greater  part  of  the 
population — to  an  amount  which  will  buy  the 
bare  necessaries  of  life.  Even  in  the  case  of 
the  middle  class — of  all,  in  fact,  except  the  ex- 
travagantly wealthy — income  does  not  increase 
appreciably  in  proportion  to  the  increase  in 
wants. 

"What  follows?  If  wants  are  limitless,  and 
increasing  faster  than  income,  which  is  limited, 
and  if  the  difference  between  wants  and  income 
measures  the  extent  of  dissatisfaction,  or  mis- 
ery, then,  so  long  as  men  seek  their  satisfaction 
in  material  things,  relying  upon  goods  for  hap- 
piness, they  are  pursuing  a  will-o'-the-wisp 
which  flies  from  them  faster  than  they  can 
ever  pursue.  The  quagmires  of  despond  yawn 
before  them.  Unless  they  forego  their  pursuit, 
and  seek  satisfaction  in  some  other  form,  they 
have  a  life-sentence  of  progressive  misery.  The 
gates  of  joy  have  closed  on  them  forever. 

If  you  grant  the  premises  the  conclusion  is 
inevitable.  On  all  sides,  too,  it  is  bulwarked 
by  the  testimony  of  fact.  Look  at  those  who 
have  expected  happiness  to  flow  from  wealth. 


120  SOCIAL  SANITY 

They  surround  themselves  with  luxury  of  every 
description,  grasping  eagerly  at  each  new  ob- 
ject or  fad,  as  a  drowning  man  grasps  at  a 
straw.  Yet  for  all  their  wealth  of  things,  they 
are  keenly  unsatisfied — probably  farther  from 
the  real  satisfaction  of  life  than  they  were 
before  their  fortunes  were  amassed. 

A  college  Freshman  was  once  expounding  his 
philosophy  of  life.  He  must  make  a  million 
dollars.  A  million  dollars, — nothing  else  would 
do. 

^'  Why,"  he  was  asked,  "  do  you  want  a 
million  dollars'?  " 

*'  Because  I  would  be  happy." 

*'  And  why  would  you  be  happy?  " 

'^  Because,"  was  his  prompt  reply, ''  I  would 
have  a  million  dollars." 

Basing  his  life  on  this  circular  philosophy, 
the  youth  was  pressing  confidently  forward. 
He  had  a  goal.  He  saw  it  clearly  and  expected 
to  attain  it.  Perhaps,  in  his  small  way,  this 
boy  epitomized  the  philosoj^hy  of  life  which 
has  gripped  a  part  of  the  American  population 
— the  philosophy:  "  Be  rich  and  you  will  be 
happy. ' ' 

How  absurd  does  this  attitude  seem  to  an 
outsider,  or  to  one  who,  like  G.  Lowe  Dickin- 
son, writes  as  an  outsider.  Note  the  analysis 
which  he  makes  of  the  hurry  and  get  rich  phi- 
losophy. "  You  will  answer,  no  doubt,  that 
we  shall  gain  wealth.     Perhaps  we  shall;  but 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  121 

shall  we  not  lose  life?  Shall  we  not  become 
like  you?  And  can  you  expect  us  to  contem- 
plate that  with  equanimity?  What  are  your 
advantages?  Your  people,  no  doubt,  are  better 
equipped  than  ours  with  some  of  the  less  im- 
portant goods  of  life;  they  eat  more,  drink 
more,  sleep  more;  but  there  their  superiority 
ends.  They  are  less  cheerful,  less  contented, 
less  industrious,  less  law-abiding;  their  occu- 
pations are  more  unhealthy  both  for  body  and 
mind ;  they  are  crowded  into  cities  and  factories, 
divorced  from  Nature  and  the  ownership  of  the 
soil." 

By  way  of  contrast,  Mr.  Dickinson  points 
to  the  obverse  of  the  picture.  ''  A  rose  in  a 
moonlit  garden,  the  shadow  of  trees  on  the 
turf,  almond  bloom,  scent  of  pine,  the  wine-cup, 
and  the  guitar;  these  and  the  pathos  of  life 
and  death,  the  long  embrace,  the  hand  stretched 
out  in  vain,  the  moment  that  glides  forever 
away,  with  its  freight  of  music  and  light,  into 
the  shadow  and  hush  of  the  haunted  past,  all 
that  we  have,  all  that  eludes  us,  a  bird  on  the 
wing,  a  perfume  escaped  on  the  gale, — to  all 
these  things  we  are  trained  to  respond,  and  the 
response  is  what  we  call  literature.  This  we 
have;  this  you  cannot  give  us;  but  this  you 
may  so  easily  take  away.  Amid  the  roar  of 
looms  it  cannot  be  heard;  it  cannot  be  seen  in 
the  smoke  of  factories ;  it  is  killed  by  the  wear 
and  the  whirl  of  Western  life." 


122  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Such  words  must  challenge  even  the  fastest 
hurrier.  They  must  give  pause,  even  to  those 
who  have  believed,  with  a  simplicity  akin  to 
the  faith  of  little  children,  that  they  and  their 
life  were,  while  all  others  might  become. 

The  unbiased  observer  is  struck  by  the  failure 
of  such  men  to  gain  a  tolerant  viewpoint;  by 
the  unwisdom  of  the  American  "  Hurry  "  and 
''  Things  "  philosophies;  by  the  great  gap — 
the  gulf — which  yawns  between  modern  life  and 
personal  contentment;  by  the  muchness  of  life 
and  the  littleness  of  living. 

A  proud  Indian  Chief,  who  had  been  urged 
to  work  by  a  missionary,  penetrated  far  into  the 
things — sophistry. 

' '  You  must  enter  the  shop  and  work, ' '  urged 
the  missionary. 

''Why?  "  asked  the  Chief. 

''  Well,  if  you  work  hard,  you  will  be  pro- 
moted and  your  wages  raised." 

''  And  then?  " 

"  Well,  you  will  be  made  a  foreman,  if  you 
do  very  well. ' ' 

"  And  then?  "  the  Chief  persisted. 

"  Keep  moving,"  continued  the  mission- 
ary, "  and  you  may  be  appointed  superinten- 
dent." 

"  What  then?  " 

''  Well,  if  you  are  successful,  you  can  estab- 
lish a  shop  of  your  own,  and  have  many  people 
working  for  you." 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  123 

"  Ah,"  exclaimed  the  Chief,  "  then  I  wouldn't 
have  to  work  myself,  would  I?  " 

'^  Certainly  not,"  the  missionary  exulted. 

*'  Well,"  mused  the  Chief,  "  I  don't  have 
to  work  now." 

We  have  wants,  we  learn,  we  hurry,  we  get 
things,  new  wants,  more  things,  and  yet  more 
wants,  and  so  at  last,  having  reached  a  point 
where  our  wants  are  infinitely  beyond  our  in- 
comes, we  are  more  miserable  than  we  were 
at  the  beginning;  or  else,  if  we  are  among  the 
favored  few  whose  incomes  are  so  vast  that 
we  cannot  want  their  full  compass,  we  surround 
ourselves  with  a  myriad  of  things,  and  at  last, 
blase  and  weary  of  the  never  ending  pursuit 
of  objects,  retire  to  a  bungalow  in  the  Cana- 
dian Rockies,  catch  trout,  grill  them  over  a 
fire  of  pine  knots,  and,  while  we  wash  our  own 
tin  dishes,  thank  God  for  a  few  blessed  hours 
of  free  life. 

Well  sayest  thou,  0  Philosopher,  ''  Vanity 
of  vanities, — all  things  are  vanity."  From  its 
inception  to  its  consummation  the  worship  of 
things  leads  to  naught  save  vanity  and  vexation 
of  spirit. 

Yet,  the  fullness  of  time  holds  more  than 
one  solution  of  life's  destiny.  In  truth,  there 
are  three  kinds  of  living, — puppy  living,  living 
for  the  sake  of  living,  and  living  for  a  pur- 
pose. Most  individuals  pass  through  these 
stages,  civilization  has  passed  through  them, 


124  SOCIAL  SANITY 

or  is  passing  tlirougli  them.  The  universe,  too, 
in  so  far  as  sentient  life  is  concerned,  has  ex- 
perienced them.  The  same  individual  may  live 
all  three  lives  in  one  day  or  one  hour  of  the 
day,  yet  some  one  of  them  usually  dominates 
his  life  at  a  given  time. 

Puppy  living  is  the  life  of  physical  energy. 
The  puppy,  sporting  in  the  sun;  the  child, 
cavorting  about  among  the  haycocks,  are  illus- 
trations of  puppy  life^ — the  life  of  surplus  ani- 
mal spirits.  The  life  of  undeveloped  beings, 
or  of  developed  beings  in  moments  of  utter 
forgetfulness  of  those  things  which  differen- 
tiate them  from  undevelopment. 

With  advancing  years — with  adolescence, 
and  the  coming  of  the  emotions,  a  new  life 
sweeps  into  the  individual  existence.  It  is  then 
that  people  live  for  the  sake  of  living.  The 
truly  appreciative  drunkard  lives  for  the  sake 
of  living.  Fiery,  foolish  Romeo,  so  sore  pierced 
with  love's  shaft  that  he  could  not  soar  with 
his  light  feathers,  lived  for  the  living.  The 
mountain  climber,  the  hunter,  and  fisherman 
live  for  the  living. 

Strongly  contrasted  with  these  two  forms  of 
life,  is  life  for  a  purpose.  It  is  only  lately,  in 
the  history  of  the  world,  that  life  for  a  purpose 
was  possible.  Man,  like  nature's  other  crea- 
tures, lived  his  puppy  stage,  and  then  lived 
to  live — having  no  other  purpose  than  to  drive 
off  his  enemies,  assure  himself  against  starva- 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  125 

tion,  and  to  propagate  his  kind.  To-day  the  pur- 
poseful element  in  life  has  overshadowed  all  else 
— making  of  life  a  round  of  ' '  duty, "  "  ought, ' ' 
''  should,"  and  like  commands  of  purpose.  To 
be  sure  the  purpose  may  be  tawdry  enough.  One 
may  labor  to  earn  a  hundred  dollars  in  order 
that  he  may  bet  on  horses ;  a  woman  may  dress 
herself  in  a  fashion  established  by  Parisian 
tailors,  in  order  to  be  beautiful.  Men  and 
women,  otherwise  sane,  may  conform  to  a  thou- 
sand petty  tyrannies  which  society  imposes  upon 
them,  in  order  to  be  socially  successful.  On 
the  other  hand,  a  scientist  may,  with  unflagging 
zeal,  devote  his  entire  life  to  the  pursuit  of 
one  family  of  bacteria;  a  mechanic  may  live 
and  die  in  the  attempt  to  create  a  new  form  of 
motive  power;  a  zealot  may  labor  for  years  in 
a  jail,  teaching  and  preaching  to  the  prisoners ; 
a  woman  may  devote  herself  to  rearing  her 
family;  a  doctor  may  devote  himself  unre- 
servedly to  the  welfare  of  his  patients.  Such 
lives  are  lives  with  a  purpose. 

Purposeful  lives  are  continually  held  up  be- 
fore children  for  their  emulation.  Washington, 
Lincoln,  Cromwell,  and  Garibaldi  were  purpose- 
ful patriots.  As  such  they  are  lauded  and  re- 
membered. They  are  our  examples.  Men  and 
women  who  ' '  do  things  ' '  command  our  respect. 
The  emotional  appeal  of  purpose  is  immeasur- 
able and  omnipotent.    The  world  stands  aside 


126  SOCIAL  SANITY 

to  let  a  man  pass  who  knows  whither  he  is 
going. 

Living  must  be  purposeful  if  man  is  to  have 
a  kingdom,  for  the  kingdom  must  be  ruled, — 
ruled  by  strong  purpose.  Doers  as  well  as 
hearers  of  the  word  must  arise  if  man  is  to 
remain  upon  his  throne. 

What  follows?  Must  all  living  be  purpose- 
ful? Shall  men  abandon  living  for  living's 
sake  and  the  joy  of  expending  surplus  energy 
in  puppy  life?  Merely  because  these  things  are 
not  connected  with  "  duty  "  and  "  ought," 
must  they  be  left  behind  in  the  quick  advances 
of  progress? 

God  forbid! 

Life  must  be  lived.  Neither  as  an  emaciated 
ascetic  nor  as  a  boisterous  libertine  does  a  man 
fulfill  the  demands  of  Hfe.  Sane  living  differs 
from  all  of  these,  because  the  sane  life,  while 
making  due  allowance  for  all  of  the  impulses 
which  direct  the  activities  of  men,  denies  the 
necessity  for  excess  in  any  direction.  ''  Noth- 
ing too  much,"  cries  the  Sage. 

Could  the  boundaries  of  sane  living  be  de- 
fined; could  they  be  set  down  in  general  terms 
which  would  apply  to  one  individual  as  to  an- 
other, they  would  include  these  seven  things: 
To  live. 
To  express. 
To  enjoy. 
To  understand. 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  127 

To  believe. 
To  grow. 
To  increase  life. 
How  would  anything  less  than  these  seven  ac- 
tivities be  included  in  the  scope  of  sane  living? 

Men  are  alive — it  is  not  a  shame  to  live. 
Bodies  are  ours.  Then  why  should  we  shrink 
from  them,  treating  them  as  though  they  were 
a  disgrace?  It  is  enough  that  the  bodies  are 
here;  it  is  enough  that  they  demand  care;  it 
is  enough  that  impulse  carries  us  fast  and  far. 
To  live — yes,  just  to  live, — to  lie  softly  under 
a  budding  tree,  basking  in  the  spring  sunshine ; 
to  shout  aloud  an  old,  melodious  song;  to  run, 
leap,  play,  gambol;  to  plunge  into  cool  swift 
water  on  a  burning  hot  summer  afternoon, — 
merely  to  live,  and  to  rejoice  in  being  alive. 
What  more  sane!  What  more  sure  pathway 
to  the  salvation  of  body  and  mind? 

Then  to  express.  What  thy  hand  findeth  to 
do,  do  it  with  thy  might — with  the  whole  im- 
pulse of  thy  heart.  Express!  Express!! 
Whether  in  music  or  mechanics,  express  the 
inner  thought  of  a  being  endowed  with  an  in- 
finite power  of  expression.  Through  expres- 
sion men  grow.  In  the  furnace  of  hot  effort, 
the  dross  is  burnt  away.  When  the  surges 
of  a  soul  mount  like  a  great  tidal  wave  of 
energy  and  enthusiasm,  there  is  expressiion, 
unfolding,  growth. 

Bring  together  these  two,  live,  express — and 


128  SOCIAL  SANITY 

a  third  follows  as  the  night  the  day — enjoy. 
Man  had  won  half  the  fight  for  his  kingdom 
when  he  learned  to  laugh.  Longfellow  assures 
us  that  "  Not  enjoyment,  and  not  sorrow,  is 
our  destined  end  or  way;  but  to  act,  that  each 
to-morrow  find  us  farther  than  to-day."  Alas, 
then,  what  shall  we  do  on  this  journey?  May 
men  never  take  from  life  its  joy?  May  they 
never  feel  the  thrilling  glow  of  exhilaration  that 
wells  up  with  the  surplus  of  life  within?  May 
men  never  glory  in  the  infinite  satisfaction 
which  comes  with  expression?  Look!  Yonder 
man  has  laid  himself  this  last  hour  in  the  sun- 
shine, while  I  have  made  a  song  of  rare  beauty, 
— may  we  not  both  enjoy  our  life?  Not  the 
end,  mayhap,  but  a  device  for  insuring  the  ease 
and  convenience  of  travelers  as  they  journey. 
We  dare  not  dispense  with  joy! 

Withal,  there  must  be  understanding.  Life 
is  not  all  cool  water-brooks,  nor  songs,  nor 
virile  enthusiasm,  nor  rollicking  fun.  It  is  given 
to  men  to  combine  these  things  by  virtue  of 
their  judgment  and  their  reason.  Thus  is  it 
necessary,  also,  to  understand. 

It  is  a  strange  fact,  though  none  the  less 
true,  that  he  who  lives  all  of  his  life  merely 
to  live,  is,  in  the  end,  as  dissatisfied  with  it  as 
he  who  lives  it  only  to  express  or  only  to  en- 
joy. Here  Judgment,  the  wise  mentor,  asserts 
her  omnipotence, — ' '  Hast  thou  expressed  with- 
out joy?  "  she  protests.    "  Then,  for  all  these 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  129 

years  of  narrowing  existence,  which  thou  hast 
chosen,  I  condemn  thee  henceforth  to  joy  with- 
out expression.  Thy  whole  soul  shall  surge 
within  thee,  without  showing  itself  even  in  thine 
eyes."  So  are  we  eternally  cursed  if  we  choose 
the  narrow  way.  At  a  fearful  price  Darwin 
paid  for  his  science — at  the  cost  of  his  music, 
his  poetry,  and  his  art.  How  much  better  a 
man  of  science  might  he  not  have  been  had  these 
stayed  with  him  during  his  later  years  ?  Do  you 
not  understand  ?  It  is  the  straight  and  narrow 
way  which  leadeth  to  the  prison  cell,  to  repres- 
sion, bitterness,  damnation. 

Said  my  friend  to  me,  ' '  I  was  never  a  child. 
When  my  maiden  aunt  had  kept  me  seven  years, 
though  I  was  but  twelve  on  the  calendar,  I  was 
three  hundred,  as  men  measure  life.  Thus,  I 
have  experienced  life's  joy;  I  never  learned 
what  it  meant  to  live.  Can  you  wonder  that  as 
a  man  of  middle  age,  I  try,  now  and  then,  to 
drop  my  business,  throw  it  all  aside,  and  catch 
up  with  some  of  that  youth  which  is  fleeing 
farther  and  farther  from  me?  "  Why,  good 
friend,  should  we  wonder?  Do  men  gather  figs 
of  thistles? 

'Tis  the  understanding  which  must  balance 
the  affairs  of  life.  But  the  understanding  which 
brings  men  to  know  other  men  is  the  most 
precious  of  all.  All  other  things  which  men 
can  desire  are  incomparable  with  that  knowl- 
edge of  other  men's  souls  which  comes  with 


130  SOCIAL  SANITY 

an  understanding  of  them  and  theirs.  We  walk, 
sit,  talk,  think,  and  laugh  together.  We  under- 
stand. We  are  friends.  What  more,  what  bet- 
ter can  we  ask? 

Yet  the  understanding  heart  must  believe, 
since  many  things  rest  as  much  on  belief  as 
on  the  understanding.  The  teacher,  believing 
in  his  pupils,  sees  with  pride  the  marks  they 
make  in  the  world.  The  scientist,  believing  in 
his  work,  sees  at  last  the  fruits  of  belief  in  the 
triumph  of  his  thought.  The  friend,  believing 
in  his  friend  what  he  can  neither  understand 
nor  prove,  rejoices  in  the  confirmation  of  his 
belief.  Belief  is  the  soul  of  living.  Transcend- 
ing the  bounds  of  judgment  and  understanding, 
it  carries  men  sheer  into  the  environs  of  Para- 
dise. 

Out  of  all  these  things, — out  of  living,  ex- 
pression, joy,  understanding,  and  belief  shall 
come  growth.  Rather,  these  things  are  growth, 
— the  growth  of  the  well-rounded  man.  In 
these  things  he  portrays  the  body,  mind,  and 
soul  which  is  in  him.  Through  his  portrayal, 
he  learns,  and  again  portraying,  scores  each 
time  a  greater  triumph. 

Last  of  all,  because  he  has  grown,  he  may 
himself  increase  life.  Because  he  has  lived  to 
manhood,  he  may  add  to  the  race  of  which  he 
is  a  part.  Because  he  understands  and  believes, 
he  may  say  to  his  friend,  ''  Friend,  I  say  unto 
thee,  arise,"  and  the  friend  will  rise,  and  in 


LIFE  AND  LIVING  131 

the  strength  of  a  new  might  which  has  been  thus 
given  to  him,  shall  he  go  forth  and  conquer. 
It  is  glory  enough  for  one  day — nay,  even  for 
one  life — to  have  added  to  the  life  stream  of 
the  race,  and  to  the  courage  of  a  friend. 

This  is  living.  In  these  realms  lie  those 
things  which  are  most  worth  while  in  life,  be- 
cause they  serve  for  the  expression  of  the  in- 
dividual soul  of  to-day,  and  for  the  unfolding 
of  the  individual  soul  of  to-morrow. 

These  things  we  learn  slowly.  At  its  rapid- 
est,  our  pace  is  aught  but  speedy.  Glance  at 
yesterday,  and  to-day  seems  painfully  similar; 
look  to  Hellas  and  to  the  Seven  Hills,  the 
change  is  but  small ;  glance  back  again  to  Egypt 
and  Babylon,  there  is  surely  some  progress 
now ;  and  if  the  mind  travels  farther  still,  grasp- 
ing the  chasm  which  yawns  between  civilization 
and  barbarism,  and  the  still  wider  abyss  be- 
tween barbarism  and  savagery,  it  seems  that, 
after  all,  men  are  learning  how  to  live.  Per- 
haps, in  twenty  centuries,  the  world  will  use 
a  term  like  "  barbarism  "  to  apply  to  this  civ- 
ilization. 

Still  does  the  race  advance.  Still  does  it 
press  on  toward  its  goal — increasing  the 
breadth  and  meaning  of  living  for  all  who  will. 
Still  does  mankind  move  up  and  up  in  its  reali- 
zation of  the  fuller  meanings  of  life.  At  first, 
like  the  beasts,  living  to  feed,  and  feeding  to 
live  and  propagate  their  kind ;  now,  in  these  later 


132  SOCIAL  SANITY 

years,  advancing  to  the  consciousness  of  a  larger 
life,  in  which  purposeful  effort  plays  a  leading 
part,  mankind  is  learning  what  life  means 
— in  its  sane  fullness.  When  we  have  learned 
these  sayings,  and  pondered  them  diligently  in 
our  hearts,  one  further  thought  must  we  remem- 
ber,— that  in  none  of  these  matters  can  you  and 
I  live  sanely  until  that  other,  over  yonder,  en- 
joys similar  opportunities  for  sane  life. 


VI 

THE   GOSPEL  OP   WELFARE 

Welfare  is  plural  for  sane  living.  It  is  some- 
thing more  than  that  too,  for  it  connotes  an 
opportunity  for  individuals  to  lead  sane  lives. 
More  than  a  century  ago,  a  group  of  men,  writ- 
ing an  instrument  of  government  which  they 
called  "  The  Constitution  of  the  United  States 
of  America,"  set  forth  in  their  preamble  an 
intention  "  to  promote  the  general  welfare." 
Although,  judges,  lawyers,  and  even  laymen 
have  indulged  in  heated  disputes  over  the  power 
granted  to  the  Federal  Government  by  the  gen- 
eral welfare  clause,  it  seems  perfectly  clear  that 
the  words  "  general  welfare  "  are  there  used 
to  mean  an  aggregation  of  individual  welfares, 
— that  is,  the  living  of  sane,  normal  lives,  and 
further  the  opportunity  so  to  do. 

Nor  should  "  wealth  "  and  "  welfare  "  be 
regarded  as  identical.  Wealth  and  welfare  are 
not  synonymous  terms,  nor  is  welfare  always 
purchasable  by  wealth.  Welfare  is  an  end  in 
itself, — non-material,  to  be  sure;  based  on  the 
satisfaction  which  the  individual  is  securing 
from  life.     Since   individual   satisfaction   de- 

183 


134  SOCIAL  SANITY 

pends  upon  the  sanity  or  normality  of  life, 
rather  than  upon  the  amount  of  wealth  pos- 
sessed, welfare  is  conditioned  upon  sane  living. 

Neither  is  it  possible  to  apply  the  term 
'^  welfare  "  where  the  life  of  one  individual 
is  to  be  conserved  at  the  expense  of  the  other. 
The  man  whose  chickens  feed  on  his  neighbor's 
lettuce;  the  woman  who  idles  on  the  overwork 
of  her  husband ;  the  man  who  hires  men  to  work 
for  him,  and  pays  them  less  than  they  earn; 
the  man  who  lives  at  ease,  while  the  community 
works  to  supply  him  a  living, — the  term  welfare 
cannot  be  applied  to  these,  because  the  pros- 
perity of  one  depends  upon  the  adversity  of 
another.  Welfare  has,  therefore,  both  a  per- 
sonal and  a  social  signification.  Personally, 
welfare  refers  to  sane  living;  socially  it  refers 
to  an  opportunity  for  such  living  in  the  com- 
munity at  large. 

Not  only  are  wealth  and  welfare  not  syn- 
onymous, but  where  they  appear  as  ends  or  ob- 
jects of  endeavor,  they  are  actually  contradic- 
tory. Wealth  is  one  end,  welfare  another.  Be- 
tween them  there  stretches  an  arid  plain  of 
dissatisfaction.  Few  men  of  wealth  succeed 
in  crossing  this  plain  because  of  the  infinite 
difficulties  involved  in  serving  God  and  Mam- 
mon. Nevertheless,  many  must  start  from  the 
Mammon  side,  and  either  construct  a  passage- 
way across,  or  else  take  a  running  start  and 
leap  the  sheer  abyss. 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  WELFARE       135 

The  relation  of  wealth  and  welfare  has  been 
one  of  vital  concern  ever  since  the  opulent  Sol- 
omon rhapsodized  over  the  blessings  of  poverty. 
Perhaps  sanity  lies  at  neither  extreme.  While 
money  may,  indeed,  be  the  root  of  all  evil,  it 
is  likewise  the  trunk  on  which  the  branches  of 
progress,  the  twigs  of  satisfaction,  and  the 
fruits  of  welfare  appear.  Note  this  interesting 
succession  of  concepts.    Men  may  strive  for 

1.  Money. 

2.  Wealth. 

3.  Wants. 

4.  Progress. 

5.  Civilization. 

6.  Welfare. 

A  man  may  strive  for  money,  the  counters 
of  the  life-game,  and,  like  the  miser,  hoard  them 
and  gloat  over  them.  In  this  way,  during  a 
lifetime,  he  may  amass  a  great  "  pile,"  stand- 
ing out  alone  among  his  contemporaries, — en- 
vied by  the  mediocre,  cursed  by  the  discontented,, 
and  pitied  by  the  few.  Or  he  may  overlook 
the  counters  and  work  for  the  things  which  the 
counters  represent, — the  wealth  of  society.  In- 
stead of  surrounding  himself  with  counters,  he 
surrounds  his  life  with  luxury — living  alone 
amidst  his  wealth,  and  thus,  by  the  possession 
and  use  of  the  wealth,  satisfies  the  wants  which 
led  him  to  expend  his  effort.    In  his  straggle 


136  SOCIAL  SANITY 

for  money, — either  as  an  end  in  itself,  or  as 
a  means  to  wealth,  and  thus  to  the  satisfaction 
of  wants,  the  man  has  been  working  for  him- 
self only,  animated  primarily  by  the  wish  to 
protect  himself  or  to  satisfy  his  personal  de- 
sires. 

Broadly  speaking,  the  man  who  strives  to 
obtain  either  money  or  wealth  to  satisfy  his 
wants,  is  seeking  wealth,  or  the  things  that 
wealth  will  buy.  On  the  other  hand,  an  indi- 
vidual may  aim  toward  welfare.  In  that  case, 
he  devotes  a  part  of  his  energy  to  progress, — 
a  forward  movement  for  the  entire  group  to 
which  he  belongs.  Either  he  devotes  his  ener- 
gies primarily  to  social  advance,  or  else,  seeing 
in  social  advance  his  own  greatest  welfare,  he 
strives,  through  the  progress  of  society,  to 
further  his  own  interests.  If  many  persons  be 
of  his  mind,  so  that  a  large  group  is  striving 
for  progress,  civilization  will  be  advanced,  and 
the  welfare  of  each  member  of  the  group  will 
be  increased.  Thus  men  learn  that  where  each 
is  for  all,  all  are  for  each.  In  order  to  insure 
progress  and  civilization,  it  will  be  necessary 
to  use  money  and  wealth  to  satisfy  the  wants 
of  the  individual,  yet  there  is  just  as  wide  a 
difference  between  working  for  wealth  and 
working  for  welfare  as  there  is  between  play- 
ing baseball  for  scores  and  playing  to  play  a 
good  game.     In  the  first  case  you  work  for 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  WELFARE       137 

counters;  in  the  second  you  work  for  growth 
and  skill. 

Economic  and  social  endeavor  must  have 
some  goal.    Shall  it  be  wealth  or  welfare? 

The  social  scientists  who  wrote  in  the  eigh- 
teenth and  early  nineteenth  centuries  were  in- 
clined to  the  view  that  the  chief  aim  of  national 
as  of  individual  life  should  be  the  acquisition 
of  wealth,  hence  the  question  of  welfare  held 
a  very  minor  place  in  their  pliilosophies.  Sim- 
ilar workers  in  the  last  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century  have  completely  revised  this  judgment, 
and,  since  John  Stuart  Mill  evolved  from  a  clas- 
sical economist  into  a  social  reformer,  they  have 
replaced  the  "  Science  of  Wealth  "  by  a  ''  Sci- 
ence of  Welfare."  Early  writers  maintained 
that  economic  goods  were  the  logical  end  of 
endeavor;  that  the  nation  which  produced  eco- 
nomic goods  in  great  abundance  was  the  suc- 
cessful nation,  irrespective  of  any  other  test. 
The  newer  school  holds,  on  the  other  hand,  that 
social  progress  lies,  not  in  the  production  of 
goods,  but  in  the  developing  lives  of  men  and 
women,  and  that,  while  this  end  may  be  achieved 
through  the  production  of  goods,  the  produc- 
tion is  merely  incidental  to  the  development 
of  manhood  and  womanhood.  Production, 
therefore,  ceases  to  be  regarded  as  an  end  in 
itself,  and  becomes  a  means  to  welfare.  Some 
thinkers  have  even  gone  so  far  as  to  say  with 
John  Ruskin,  ''  There  is  no  wealth  but  life," 


138  SOCIAL  SANITY 

meaning  that  the  real  reliance  of  a  nation  must 
be  placed,  not  on  the  amount  of  its  economic 
goods,  but  on  the  number  of  ' '  bright-eyed,  full- 
chested  men  and  women  "  which  it  can  boast. 

Where  the  rights  of  wealth  clash  with  the 
welfare  of  men,  wealth  is  being  ignored  to  a 
greater  and  greater  degree.  The  twentieth  cen- 
tury is  rapidly  developing  into  a  "Welfare  Cen- 
tury. The  struggle  for  wealth  still  continues, 
but  it  is  everywhere  tempered  by  the  growing 
insistence  on  the  primal  importance  of  welfare. 

With  a  clearing  vision  men  are  realizing  that 
wealth  and  welfare  must,  sooner  or  later,  come 
into  conflict.  When  they  do,  with  legislatures, 
courts,  administrative  offices,  tariff  debates, 
and  diplomatic  negotiations,  the  ultimate  test 
is  that  enunciated  by  Abraham  Lincoln, — '^  We 
are  for  both  the  man  and  the  dollar;  but  in 
case  of  conflict  we  are  for  the  man  before  the 
dollar." 

A  man  has  no  real  opportunity  to  live  unless 
some  means  can  be  devised  whereby  his  welfare 
is  to  be  assured.  Social  sanity  and  social  prog- 
ress both  depend  upon  it,  because  social  in- 
tegrity is  impossible  in  the  absence  of  indi- 
vidual well-being. 

Furthermore,  and  for  the  purpose  of  this 
discussion,  the  wholly  important  point  lies  here : 
man  must  guarantee  this  welfare  to  himself. 
His  kingdom — the  civilization  which  he  has 
built  through  the  centuries — fails  in  all  if  it 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  WELFARE       139 

fails  in  this.  Since  civilization  is  the  conver- 
sion of  nature's  forces  to  serve  human  needs 
— to  conserve  welfare,  social  evolution  means 
merely  an  additional  control  over  old  or  new 
forces,  for  the  service  of  man. 

Thus  the  process  of  securing  welfare — the 
process  of  adjustment  it  is  sometimes  called — 
is  a  continuous  one.  In  each  age  the  problem 
differs,  but  the  necessity  for  adjustment  re- 
mains. 

Adjustment  may  be  learned  at  first  hand  from 
Nature,  since  she  is  continually  shaping  old  facts 
to  fit  new  needs.  Nature  is  a  born  reformer. 
In  her  domain  harmony  must  prevail.  But  har- 
mony is  natural,  you  protest.  Aye,  harmony — 
adjustment  is  natural.  What  a  pity  that  we 
do  not  paraphrase  Rousseau's  behest,  and  raise 
the  cry  "  Back  to  harmony — back  to  adjust- 
ment! " 

Nature  has  set  plainly  before  us  her  exam- 
ples. She  respects  neither  age  nor  tradition, 
but  acts  as  the  need  of  the  hour  demands.  The 
things  which  are  old  are  not  sacred  to  her. 
"  The  hills,  rock-ribbed  and  ancient  as  the  sun," 
are  swept  away  before  her  commanding  pres- 
ence. Her  waters  are  continually  at  work,  erod- 
ing, adjusting  their  paths  to  the  changes  in 
earth  formation.  A  mountain  range  is  thrown 
up,  and  the  waters  begin  their  downward  trickle 
and  sweep,  tearing  away  the  earth  and  stone, 
until  the  river  has  worn  down  its  bed  to  a  nor- 


140  SOCIAL  SANITY 

mal  gradient  and  created  a  canon  of  the  Colo- 
rado. Adjustment  is  not  yet  complete.  The 
river  continues  its  work,  cutting  away  the  sur- 
rounding hills  until  it  flows  through  a  great 
plain  like  the  Mississippi  Valley.  If  another 
line  of  hills  appears,  the  water,  undiscouraged, 
begins  again,  working  eternally  to  accomplish 
its  end, — an  adjustment  to  gravitation. 

The  river  is  seeking  to  establish  a  normal 
gradient,  and  before  this  attempt  to  secure  ad- 
justment even  the  hills  must  succumb.  Soci- 
ety, like  the  river,  seeks  to  adjust  itself  to  the 
changing  contour  of  the  environment  by  wear- 
ing it  away  and  smoothing  it  down  until  a 
normal  relation  is  established  between  men  and 
their  surroundings. 

Cascades,  rapids,  and  whirlpools  are  abnor- 
mal in  rivers,  hence  Nature  strives  to  eliminate 
them  and,  secure  a  regular,  uniform  river-bed. 
Premature  death,  accidents,  overwork,  and  mis- 
ery are  abnormal  in  society,  hence  a  sane  group 
strives  to  eliminate  them  and  secure  a  more 
perfect  adjustment  to  the  normal  life. 

The  river  works  blindly — naturally — to  secure 
its  end;  men  work  intelligently — consciously — 
to  secure  theirs.  Could  the  river  employ  gun- 
cotton,  electric  power,  reinforced  concrete,  and 
structural  steel,  how  much  more  effective  would 
be  its  work! 

The  river  accomplishes  its  purpose  by  means 
of  many  particles  of  water,  all  flowing  in  the 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  WELFARE       141 

same  direction, — co-operating  for  the  accom- 
plishment of  a  set  purpose.  Society  accom- 
plishes its  end  by  means  of  many  men  and 
women,  all  aiming  at  the  same  goal, — co-operat- 
ing,— removing,  one  by  one,  the  obstacles  to 
progress.  The  river  seeks  adjustment  to  the 
normal  through  the  laws  of  nature;  man  seeks 
adjustment  to  the  normal  by  combining  nature's 
laws  and  adding  to  them  a  touch  of  human 
genius.  The  river  is  a  part  of  the  kingdom 
of  nature.  Society  is  a  part  of  the  kingdom 
of  man.  In  both  kingdoms  there  are  unmeas- 
ured possibilities  for  the  adjustment  of  means 
to  ends  and  of  material  things  to  human  wel- 
fare. 

Adjustment  is  the  normal  condition  of  a  sane 
society.  Hence,  men  and  women,  whose  ideals 
include  welfare,  aim  to  remold  social  institu- 
tions in  such  a  way  that  every  life  may  be 
joyous  and  effective.  Some  of  the  institutions 
which  bar  the  path  of  progress  are  venerable 
and  hoary  with  age;  others  are  of  such  late 
origin  that  they  have  scarcely  entered  the  pale 
of  respectability.  To  both  classes  of  institu- 
tions, however,  the  same  test  must  be  applied. 
*'  Do  you  augment  or  diminish  welfare?  "  By 
this  fruit  we  know  and  judge  them.  By  this 
criterion  we  justify  or  condemn. 

The  activities  of  a  small  group  of  earnest 
men  who  demand  social  adjustment  are  called 
**  agitation, "  but  when  the  movement  has  grown 


142  SOCIAL  SANITY 

to  great  proportions,  that  stigma  is  forgotten, 
and  enthusiastically,  reverently,  men  speak  of 
^'  reformation."  If  the  movement  is  strong 
and  well  directed,  so  that  a  large  measure  of 
adjustment  is  secured;  if  all  antiquated  and 
barbaric  institutions  are  replaced  by  institu- 
tions that  meet  the  needs  of  a  newer  civiliza- 
tion; if  the  full  possibilities  of  society  are  re- 
alized; then  adjustment  is  complete.  Society 
has  reached  a  normal  gradient,  has  become 
sane, — providing  always  for  its  preservation 
and  perpetuation  in  the  best  attainable  manner. 
But  the  normal  is  constantly  changing.  One 
generation  creates  an  ideal;  the  evolution  of 
the  succeeding  age  makes  this  ideal  the  normal. 
Thus  the  ideal  of  one  age  becomes  the  normal 
of  the  age  that  follows.  In  no  age,  therefore, 
can  adjustment  be  complete;  at  no  time  is  man's 
kingdom  wholly  subjugated.  Each  forward 
step  necessitates  another  step.  Each  act  makes 
necessary  other  acts.  Welfare  too  is  a  becom- 
ing, evolving  with  each  age  greater  possibilities 
in  the  age  which  follows.  Social  adjustment 
in  any  age  is  an  approximation  to  the  normal; 
but  with  invention  and  progress,  education  and 
evolution,  the  possible  development  of  each  age 
is  a  step  in  advance  of  the  possibiUties  of  the 
preceding  age.  As  possibilities  increase  the 
normal  standard  of  society  moves  forward. 
Each  age,  to  complete  its  adjustment,  must  re- 
alize all  of  these  possibilities.    Plato  dreamed 


THE  GOSPEL  OF  WELFARE       143 

of  a  time  when  machinery  should  replace  slaves. 
This  was  merely  an  ideal,  unattainable  in 
Plato's  age.  But  machinery  has  been  invented 
which,  with  human  direction,  creates  masses  of 
wealth  undreamed  of  at  an  earlier  epoch ;  hence, 
the  possibilities  of  civilization, — the  scope  of 
welfare,  the  boundary  of  man 's  kingdom, — have 
advanced  since  Plato  wrote;  and  machinery  has 
brought  to  our  society  new  opportunities  which 
must  be  utilized  before  welfare  is  attained. 
The  test  of  modern  welfare  is,  therefore,  not 
the  narrow,  slave-supported  possibilities  of  two 
thousand  years  ago,  but  the  widespread,  ma- 
chine-made opportunities  of  to-day. 

It  is  not  enough  that  we  leave  our  institutions 
as  our  fathers  shaped  them.  They  knew  little 
or  nothing  of  the  conditions  which  we  face. 
Sufficient  unto  the  age  is  the  work  thereof.  It 
is  not  the  right  of  any  generation  to  project 
its  will  into  the  future,  but  it  is  the  duty  of 
each  generation  to  adjust  its  institutions  to 
meet  its  own  needs. 

Men  need  not  wait  until  death  to  realize  many 
of  their  ideals.  They  can  have  things  here  on 
earth  which  their  fathers  associated  with  the 
millennium.  They  need  no  longer  overwork,  nor 
go  cold  and  hungry,  nor  suffer  from  pestilence 
or  even  famine.  Machinery  has  provided  the 
possibilities  of  a  new  life.  When  all  of  these 
possibilities  are  realized,— when  no  one  is  over- 
worked, or  cold,  or  hungry;  when  all  are  lead- 


144  SOCIAL  SANITY 

ing  joyous,  purposeful  lives, — adjustment  will 
be  complete, — welfare  will  be  universal. 

Observe  that  there  is,  in  this  whole  discussion 
of  welfare,  no  word  concerning  philanthropy. 
Despite  their  use  as  synonymous,  the  words 
differ  both  in  meaning  and  in  spirit.  Philan- 
thropy does  not  connote  welfare.  Neither  for 
the  man  who  gives  nor  for  the  man  who  re- 
ceives is  welfare  assured.  The  spirit  "  let  us 
help  them  "  is  of  assistance  to  neither  party. 
The  philanthropist  violates  every  law  of  man- 
kind,— he  reaches  down.  Man's  nature  looks 
and  reaches  across  or  up.  Welfare  will  not  be 
assured  when  all  of  the  rich  are  generous.  Not 
until  men  and  women  have  an  opportunity  to 
live  sane  lives  is  welfare  really  attained. 

Neither  to-day,  nor  yet  to-morrow,  will  wel- 
fare be  secured.  We,  in  our  own  age,  and  our 
children  after  us  will  still  fight  the  good  fight 
for  progress.  Yet  to-day  has  gained  a  victory 
over  the  things  of  yesterday,  and  to-morrow 
hath  its  triumphs  even  more  notable  than  those 
of  to-day.  Welfare  is  a  becoming.  In  each 
generation,  we  secure  of  it  a  greater  measure 
which  will  be  augmented  by  those  who  follow  us. 


VII 


HUMAN   EIGHTS 


The  life  stream  of  civilization  leads  forward 
toward, — sane  living  for  the  individual ;  adjust- 
ment and  welfare  for  society;  the  inviolability 
of  human  rights.  These  things  total  to  social 
sanity. 

A  false  doctrine  has  possessed  our  minds 
with  regard  to  human  rights — false  because  it 
was  founded  on  guess  and  not  on  science.  Dur- 
ing long  centuries  men  accepted  without  ques- 
tion the  belief  that  the  aristocracy  had  a  fiber 
superior  to  that  of  the  common  people.  Even 
to-day  one  race  calls  itself  dominant;  one  na- 
tion feels  the  infinite  space  that  separates  its 
talents  from  those  of  another;  one  group  of 
people,  styled  "  middle  class,"  looks  down  from 
its  height  of  conventional  discomfort  upon  the 
''  working  class,"  as  they  would  look  upon  some 
inferior  beings.  Pride  of  birth  still  holds  sway 
in  the  minds  of  men  who  yet  have  to  learn 
from  Nietzsche  that  the  children's  land,  not 
the  fatherland,  is  the  end  of  human  endeavor. 

How  large  a  measure  of  man's  character  is 
the  product  of  the  opportunity  which  he  has 

145 


146  SOCIAL  SANITY 

had  in  life,  and  how  large  a  part  is  due  to  the 
man  himself,  none  can  finally  say,  but  it  seems 
to  be  increasingly  plain  that  the  real  differences 
between  most  men  are  small  indeed.  The  time 
has  therefore  passed  when  men  and  women  can 
blame  one  another  for  what  they  do  and  what 
they  are. 

Who  knows?  After  all,  it  may  prove  to  be 
true,  yet  after  centuries  of  training  it  is  hard 
to  realize  that  in  most  cases  people  are  not 
"  to  blame."  Blame?  Should  that  word  ever 
be  employed,  or  should  men,  learning  the  po- 
tency of  opportunity  in  shaping  the  average 
life,  come  into  the  belief  that  blame  cannot  rest 
upon  most  individuals?  If  Lester  F.  Ward  is 
correct,  and  his  painstaking  analysis  seems  wor- 
thy of  credence,  then,  "  There  is  no  need  to 
search  for  talent.  It  exists  already  and  every- 
where. The  thing  that  is  rare  is  opportunity, 
not  ability." 

Heredity  plays  its  part,  of  course.  Through 
heredity  is  derived  the  raw  material  which  the 
environment  must  shape.  True  it  is,  that 
"  Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also 
reap,"  with  this  addition,  that  if  he  is  thorough 
about  his  preparation  of  the  soil  and  his  cul- 
tivation, he  will  have  a  greatly  increased  chance 
of  securing  a  good  crop. 

The  student  of  human  rights  soon  wanders 
into  the  barren  fields  of  eighteenth  century  con- 
troversy.   When  all  is  said  and  done,  are  there 


HUMAN  RIGHTS  147 

such  things  as  human  rights?  All  thinking 
men  recognize,  of  course,  that  those  eighteenth 
century  philosophers  were  mistaken  who  as- 
sumed that  men  were  born  with  certain  rights 
attached  to  their  persons,  very  much  as  the 
fingers  were  attached  to  their  hands,  or  the 
lashes  to  their  eyelids.  So  far  as  logical  proof 
is  concerned,  human  beings  have  no  inherent 
rights.  Nevertheless,  society  has  reached  the 
point  of  recognizing  the  validity  of  the  claim 
of  each  individual  to  certain  privileges.  In 
short,  society  recognizes  certain  rights  where 
none  actually  exist.  The  result  is  the  same, 
however,  and  every  child  born  into  the  kingdom 
of  man  has  certain  well-defined  rights  which 
civilization  may  not  deny  without  violating  all 
of  its  own  experiences. 

Frequent  use  has  been  made  of  the  analogy 
between  the  body  as  an  aggregation  of  living 
cells,  and  society  as  an  aggregation  of  living 
individuals.  The  body,  as  it  has  been  pointed 
out,  is  more  than  an  aggregation  of  cells, — it  is 
an  organism,  functioning  as  a  unit.  Turn  for 
a  moment  to  the  field  of  mechanics.  Here  are 
twoscore  belts,  gear  wheels,  pulleys,  and  levers, 
so  co-related  as  to  constitute  a  machine  lathe. 
All  of  these  units,  functioning  together,  turn 
a  shaft,  or  a  cylinder.  Nevertheless,  it  is  pos- 
sible to  have  every  one  of  these  units  in  work- 
ing order,  and  running  separately,  without  cre- 
ating one  unit  of  product.    The  real  value  of 


148  SOCIAL  SANITY 

the  machine  lies  in  the  co-operation  of  the  vari- 
ous parts  in  the  processes  of  the  machine.  Sim- 
ilarly, in  the  case  of  society,  the  item  of  real 
importance  is  the  cohesion  and  co-operation. 
The  social  body,  functioning  as  a  unit,  is  in 
reality  something  more  than  an  aggregation 
of  individual  parts. 

Society,  like  the  machine,  depends  for  its 
effectiveness  on  the  effectiveness  of  the  indi- 
vidual units  which  compose  it.  Among  their 
other  good  qualities,  where  they  have  a  ''so- 
cial "  or  ''  co-operative  "  spirit  strongly  devel- 
oped, the  group  spirit  will  take  a  much  higher 
form  than  it  could  where  the  social  side  of  the 
individual  man  was  less  highly  organized.  In 
the  last  analysis,  the  quality  of  society  rests 
on  the  quality  of  its  component  parts.  The 
river  is  no  higher  than  the  drops  of  which  it 
is  composed.  Society  is  no  more  advanced  than 
the  individuals  composing  it. 

How  patent  then  seems  the  statement  that 
the  standard  of  any  given  society  is  determined, 
for  each  generation,  by  the  generation  imme- 
diately preceding,  since  each  generation  sup- 
plies the  heredity,  and  prescribes  the  environ- 
ment out  of  which  the  succeeding  generation 
grows.  This  idea  is  open  to  serious  miscon- 
struction. It  becomes  clear  only  when  men 
learn  to  think  of  generations  as  indistinctly 
blended  with  one  another.  Accustomed  as  most 
persons  are  to  dealing  with  the  successive  gen^ 


HUMAN  RIGHTS  149 

erations  in  a  family,  they  find  it  difficult  to  con- 
ceive of  the  infinite  blending  that  goes  to  the 
making  of  a  generation  in  society. 

Imagine  a  picture  of  the  present  generation 
taken  on  the  first  day  of  January.  Here 
would  be  an  octogenarian,  taking  leave  of  his 
friends  with  the  death  rattle  already  sound- 
ing from  his  flattened  chest;  there  a  youth 
and  maiden,  swearing  to  love  and  cher- 
ish one  another  through  all  eternity;  yonder 
a  baby  girl  who  utters  her  first  piping  wail, 
while  in  the  next  operating  room,  a  great  sur- 
geon, by  a  false  stroke  of  the  knife,  frees  a  soul 
of  thirty  summers  from  a  broken  body;  that 
virile  man  of  fifty  is  dominating  the  railroad 
world ;  this  maiden  lady  crochets  aimlessly,  un- 
decided whether  to  wait  a  little  longer  or  to 
teach  school.  Bearing,  loving,  marrying,  hurry- 
ing, burying, — all  the  thousand  phases  of  life 
would  be  revealed  if  one  could  look  through 
society.  One  generation  does  not  stop  where 
the  next  begins.  Society  is  a  continuous  stream, 
slipping  almost  imperceptibly  past  the  stones 
which  mark  quarter-centuries.  To-day,  the  new 
generation  is  being  born;  to-day  the  past  gen- 
eration is  shaking  off  worn-out  bodies;  to-day 
the  present  generation  is  toiling  to  maintain 
itself  and  to  build  the  future,  while  it  makes 
pleasant  the  expiring  days  of  the  past.  Like 
the  life  stream  of  evolution,  the  life  stream  of 
society  glides  forward,  endlessly. 


150  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Social  evolution  differs  from  biologic  evolu- 
tion in  one  respect,  however — society  is  becom- 
ing more  and  more  conscious  of  potential  king- 
ship, feeling  the  fuller  powers  of  human  noble- 
ness. Primitive  man  never  dreamed  of  his 
greatness.  It  remained  for  the  later  members 
of  the  species  to  evolve  a  consciousness  of  their 
power,  and  with  this  consciousness,  the  power 
itself.  To-day  society,  in  increasing  degree,  is 
directing  its  own  evolution.  Kellicott  has 
coined  an  excellent  title — "  The  Social  Direc- 
tion of  Human  Evolution."  Society  is  at  work 
making  society. 

The  two  dominating  attributes  which  are 
peculiarly  characteristic  of  sentient  life, — the 
desire  for  self-preservation  and  for  self-per- 
petuation,— translated  into  social  ideas,  lead 
each  generation  so  to  organize  the  social  struc- 
ture in  the  present  that  the  individuals  consti- 
tuting it  may  have  the  largest  opportunity  for 
individual  expression,  and  so  to  shape  the  social 
structure  in  the  future  that,  in  increasing  de- 
gree, such  an  opportunity  may  be  afforded  to 
all  of  its  members. 

Self-preservation  and  self-perpetuation  may 
be  made  the  first  law  of  social  as  they  are  of 
biologic  nature.  They  lie  at  the  basis  of  evo- 
lution. To  preserve  and  perfect  its  structure 
is  the  sane,  normal  function  of  society.  If  so- 
cial sanity  involves  anything,  it  involves  the 
application  of  these  principles  to  social  advance. 


HUMAN  RIGHTS  151 

Since,  however,  the  social  standard  is  deter- 
mined by  the  standard  of  the  individuals  in 
society,  social  preservation  and  perpetuation 
necessarily  implies  raising  the  standard  of  the 
individuals  of  which  society  is  composed. 
Hence  society,  in  its  efforts  to  attain  sanity, 
must  insist  on  certain  human  rights,  such  as 
the  right  to  be  well  born,  the  right  to  normal 
childhood,  and  the  right  to  an  opportunity  for 
the  free  expression  of  individuality. 

The  right  to  be  well  born  is  based  on  the 
necessity  for  maintaining  a  high  race  standard. 
In  no  other  manner  can  ultimate  social  stand- 
ards be  preserved,  since  the  hereditary  quali- 
ties of  the  individual  play  a  significant  part 
in  determining  individual  achievement.  Be- 
fore all  else,  heredity  must  be  right. 

Nature,  through  all  ages,  has  insisted  on  good 
heredity  by  a  process  known  as  natural  selec- 
tion. Under  the  impetus  of  this  process,  each 
species  produces  a  surplus  of  offspring.  Since 
there  are  more  individuals  born  than  can  sur- 
vive, the  unfit  die,  leaving  the  fit  to  be  the 
parents  of  the  new  generation.  Thus  is  the 
standard  of  the  race  preserved,  by  guarantee- 
ing parenthood  to  the  fittest.  Only  among  men 
do  defective  individuals  live;  in  human  society 
alone  can  degeneracy  be  the  product  of  the  sur- 
vival of  the  unfittest. 

Yet  in  human  society  this  is  so,  and  children 
are  born  into  the  world  who  are  a  burden  to 


152  SOCIAL  SANITY 

themselves  and  to  their  fellows.  Perhaps  it 
was  not  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  who  made 
the  original  remark,  but  it  is  credited  to  him 
that  he  said,  referring  to  a  case  of  serious 
illness : — 

"  There  should  have  been  a  consultation." 

''  Is  it  too  late.  Doctor"?  "  asked  the  anxious 
mother. 

"  Yes,  madam,"  replied  Dr.  Holmes,  "  the 
consultation  should  have  been  held  before  the 
marriage  of  his  grandfather." 

It  was  too  late,  because  this  child  had  in  his 
system  the  ancestral  taint.  An  act  which  in- 
fuses into  a  new  creature  the  taint  of  hered- 
itary defect  is  an  anti-social  act.  It  is  an  act 
against  which  a  sane  society  should  vehe- 
mently protest.  Hereditary  defect,  transmitted 
through  generations,  develops  a  stock  which  is 
forever  defective.  From  its  scourge  society  has 
but  one  recourse, — elimination. 

The  extent  to  which  this  taint  may  operate 
to  the  detriment  of  society  has  been  revealed 
by  some  recent  investigations  of  heredity.  One 
of  these  investigations  concerned  itself  with 
two  families  of  the  same  name,  living  in  one 
part  of  the  country.  The  first  family  was  highly 
respected  and  wealthy,  numbering  among  its 
members  some  of  the  leading  men  of  the  state. 
The  other  family  was  shiftless,  lazy,  vicious, 
and  criminal.  The  first  family  traced  its  de- 
scent proudly  to  a  man  prominent  in  the  latter 


HUMAN  RIGHTS  153 

part  of  the  eighteenth  century.  The  descent 
of  the  second  family  appeared  untraceable  until 
at  last  an  investigation  revealed  the  fact  that 
the  progenitor  of  the  good  branch  had,  in  his 
youth,  become  involved  with  a  very  pretty,  half- 
Avitted  girl,  who  bore  him  a  child  and  gave  it  his 
name.  The  entire  second  family,  with  its  train 
of  vice  and  misery,  was  traceable  to  the  off- 
spring of  this  mating  between  a  man  of  the 
highest  standard  and  a  defective  woman.  This 
illustration  is  merely  typical — duplicable  at  will 
wherever  the  subject  of  heredity  has  been  care- 
fully dealt  with. 

Science  has  definitely  established  the  trans- 
missibility  of  feeble-mindedness,  epilepsy.  Dal- 
tonism, and  a  number  of  other  defects,  through 
the  channels  of  heredity.  Persons  marrying 
with  such  defects  are  practically  sure  of  hand- 
ing them  on  to  some  of  their  descendants. 

At  this  point  then  the  issue  is  squarely  raised. 
"  Has  the  child  a  right  to  be  well  born?  "  If 
he  has,  persons  with  transmissible  defects  have 
no  right  to  parenthood,  and  a  sane  society,  in 
its  effort  to  maintain  its  race  standards,  would 
absolutely  forbid  hereditary  defectives  to  pro- 
create their  kind.  Aside  from  any  question  of 
race  elevation, — a  very  real  question,  by  the 
way,  and  one  that,  in  the  next  century  will 
rise  to  a  problem  of  the  first  magnitude — the 
present  standard  of  the  race  is  at  stake  so 
long  as  its  defective  elements  are  permitted  to 


154  SOCIAL  SANITY 

transmit  their  defect  to  future  generations.  It 
is,  therefore,  the  part  of  a  sane  policy  of  social 
preservation  to  segregate  or  sterilize  those 
members  of  the  social  group  who  show  signs 
of  hereditary  defect.  Hardship?  To  be  sure 
such  a  process  works  individual  hardship  in  the 
present,  but  it  fends  off  individual  hardship 
and  social  misery  in  the  future. 

No  less  emphatic  than  this  prohibition  on 
the  transmission  of  hereditary  defect  should 
be  the  prohibition  on  the  mating  of  those  who 
suffer  from  communicable  disease.  Although 
radically  different  in  origin  from  hereditary 
defect,  disease  may  play  no  less  havoc  with 
life. 

Although  science  has  pretty  definitely  estab- 
lished the  non-hereditary  quality  of  bacterial 
diseases,  a  specific  tendency  toward  certain 
diseases  may  be  transmitted,  opening  the  way 
for  the  activity  of  disease  germs.  This  par- 
ent with  weak  lungs  has  contracted  tubercu- 
losis. Will  these  weak  lungs— not,  mind  you, 
the  tuberculosis — be  transmitted  to  the  child? 
Like  any  other  hereditary  quality  they  may  be 
so  transmitted,  and  the  child  in  an  atmosphere 
rank  with  tuberculosis  bacilli  will  contract  the 
disease. 

A  disease,  on  the  other  hand,  like  syphilis, 
which  infects  the  offspring  before  birth,  is  as 
deadly  as  hereditary  defect,  since  it  pervades 
the  whole  parental  organism  and  is  commuiii- 


HUMAN  RIGHTS  155 

cated  to  the  new  life  almost  as  soon  as  life 
begins.  Like  all  others  suffering  from  disease 
dangerous  to  the  new  generation,  syphilitics 
should  be  denied  the  right  to  procreate. 

Society,  depending  for  its  continuance  on 
robust  men  and  women,  must  crush  out  with 
an  iron  hand  every  tendency  which  makes 
against  virility,  in  order  that  the  child  may 
be  well  bom.  What  less  could  a  rational  society 
ask  than  that  its  children  begin  their  lives  with 
the  best  possible  hereditary  qualities? 

After  birth,  during  years  of  comparative 
weakness  and  incapacity,  the  child  is  dependent 
upon  environment  for  his  development.  The 
child,  as  Burbank  has  put  it,  absorbs  environ- 
ment. At  the  point  of  conception,  heredity 
has  done  its  work,  and  from  that  point  on  en- 
vironment alone  plays  its  part.  It  is  during 
this  period  that  the  child  has  a  right  to  demand 
normal  life,  that  is,  a  chance  to  grow  physically, 
mentally,  and  spiritually,  and  a  chance  to  work 
and  play.  Psychologists  having  established  a 
pretty  definite  connection  between  growth  and 
play,  it  remains  for  society  to  insure  the  one 
by  guaranteeing  the  other. 

Platitudes!  Platitudes!  so  trite  and  so  old 
that  they  must  be  good.  Written  and  spoken 
for  centuries,  and  yet  unlearned.  Shall  we 
write  and  speak  them  again? 

A  boy  was  bom  into  a  household,  perhaps 
a  little  below  the  ordinary  in  point  of  income. 


156  SOCIAL  SANITY 

His  father  was  a  skilled  man  engaged  in  a  trade 
where  work  was  precarious.  Consequently,  he 
spent  considerable  time  warming  his  shins  by 
the  fire  at  home.  The  mother,  an  irascible 
woman,  somewhat  jealous  by  disposition,  and 
possessed  of  a  tongue  that  might  have  stayed 
the  doughtiest  word-bandier,  first  learned  to 
direct  her  abuse  at  her  too-frequently  idle  hus- 
band. If  a  dish  broke,  he  was  scolded;  if  the 
cat  stepped  in  the  rising  bread,  it  was  his  fault; 
when  the  grocer  was  late,  the  torrent  of  words 
shifted  from  the  retiring  delivery  boy  to  the 
man  by  the  stove.  Being  a  man  of  great  equa- 
nimity and  of  a  calm  demeanor,  the  husband 
took  the  abuse  in  the  same  manner  that  he  took 
sugar  in  his  coffee.  It  became  a  part  of  his 
daily  fare.  When  the  mother  turned  her  atten- 
tion to  the  boy,  however,  she  encountered  unex- 
pected obstacles,  for  he  had  a  disposition 
much  like  her  own.  His  tongue  was  quick 
and  ready,  so  when  she  scolded,  he  reviled,  and 
when  she  swore,  he  went  one  better.  He  never 
raised  his  hand  against  his  mother,  however, 
and  she,  finding  in  that  her  only  recourse,  van- 
quished him  with  a  shower  of  blows,  driving 
him  from  the  house. 

The  boy  was  not  a  bad  boy,  and,  moreover, 
he  was  quick  to  learn,  so  that,  in  the  course 
of  three  years,  he  had  acquired  a  great  deal 
of  information  from  his  long  sojourns  with  the 
boys  of  the  streets.    He  could  appropriate  milk 


HUMAN  EIGHTS  157 

from  door-steps,  rob  "  drunks,"  and  break  slot 
machines  with  the  most  adept.  Then,  too,  he 
made  the  acquaintance  of  several  vicious 
women,  who  liked  his  vivacity,  and  paid  him 
well  for  doing  their  bidding.  So  he  grew,  and 
at  fifteen  there  was  not  a  tougher  specimen 
of  boyhood  in  that  part  of  the  town. 

By  chance,  in  one  of  his  escapades,  the  lad 
fell  into  the  clutches  of  the  police,  went  to  the 
committing  magistrate,  and  then  to  a  small  farm 
school  for  delinquent  boys,  where  he  was  set 
to  hard  work.  He  labored  for  weeks,  and  at 
last,  one  day,  as  he  was  harrowing  up  a  newly 
plowed  field,  he  said  to  the  head  of  the  school : — 

*'  Do  you  know,  I  believe  I  could  do  better 
if  I  stayed  here.  When  you  see  the  harrow 
breaking  up  the  lumps,  you  can't  help  thinking 
good  thoughts." 

In  the  city,  this  boy  was  a  robber.  In  the 
country,  he  was  a  philosopher.  Surrounded  by 
his  gang,  and  beset  with  temptations,  driven 
from  home,  and  without  interest  in  school,  he 
had  faced  toward  the  penitentiary  and  plunged 
along  at  breakneck  speed.  A  new  environment 
gave  him  a  new  viewpoint.  He  became  another 
boy. 

The  great  mass  of  men  are  born  neither  de- 
fectives nor  geniuses.  They  are  shaped  by  their 
environment.  Given  a  normal  childhood,  they 
will  develop  into  normal  adults,  but  in  the  face 
of  a  subnormal  childhood,  their  adult  life  will 


158  SOCIAL  SANITY 

be  misshapen  and  distorted.  The  vast  majority 
of  criminals  are  not  born  but  made.  Any  or- 
dinary man,  placed  in  their  environment  and 
surrounded  by  their  temptations,  would  have 
done  as  they  did.  Child  labor,  street  life,  un- 
tidy homes,  dissolute  parents,  low  wages,  over- 
crowding, and  a  score  of  other  forces,  play  their 
part,  molding  the  child  into  an  unlovely  crea- 
ture, individually  superfluous — socially  danger- 
ous.   Hence  the  need  for  a  normal  childhood. 

Following  this,  when  the  child  has  become 
adult,  a  new  need  gives  rise  to  a  new  right. 
The  individual  must  have  opportunity  first  for 
self-expression  and  then  for  self-perpetuation. 
It  is  so  that  the  present  is  ennobled  and  the 
future  is  perfected. 

The  life  of  a  man  is  the  expression  of  him- 
self. If  his  childhood  has  been  normal,  he  has 
been  trained  to  adequate  self-expression  in  the 
home  and  in  the  school.  First  of  all,  he  has 
been  taught  to  engage  in  some  income-yielding 
activity — to  do  some  constructive  thing  well. 
Thus,  he  is  provided  with  a  vocation  which  en- 
ables him  to  express  whatever  constructive  in- 
dividuality may  be  his.  Then  he  has  been  given 
an  interest  in  some  secondary  occupation — 
some  avocation — in  the  pursuit  of  which  he  may 
express  another  side  of  his  constructive  nature. 
In  addition  to  this,  he  has  been  taught  the  value 
of  civic,  political,  and  industrial  co-operation. 
All  of  these  accessories  furnish  him  with  the 


HUMAN  RIGHTS  159 

means  of  doing  his  life-work.  One  other  thing 
he  needs, — that  is  opportunity  for  their  exer- 
cise. 

Each  man  must,  if  he  is  to  be  a  completed 
man,  express  his  individuality  in  constructive 
work.  Each  man  must,  to  be  effective,  as  a 
member  of  the  social  group,  have  an  oppor- 
tunity to  co-operate  thus  effectively  with  his 
fellows.  As  a  product  of  this  activity,  he  must 
have  an  income  sufficient  to  enable  him  to  afford 
for  his  children  a  normal  childhood. 

Could  the  individual,  in  justice  to  himself, 
ask  for  less  than  a  good  heredity,  a  normal 
childhood,  and  opportunity  for  self-expression? 
Can  society,  in  its  efforts  to  preserve  and  per- 
petuate itself,  require  a  lower  minimum  than 
this  for  its  individual  members?  If  social  san- 
ity leads  to  social  preservation  and  perpetua- 
tion, a  sane  society  will  ever  insist  that  these 
three  simple  rights  belong  to  every  member  of 
the  race: — 

1.  The  right  to  be  well  born. 

2.  The  right  to  a  normal  childhood. 

3.  Opportunity  for  self-preservation  and  for 
self-perpetuation.  Nor  will  social  effort  be 
stayed  until  this  insistence  has  flowered  into 
full  realization. 


vin 

LIFE  AND  LABOR 

The  various  eras  in  history — the  bends  and 
reaches  in  the  life  stream — are  characterized 
by  certain  great  issues.  To  the  world  of  to-day 
those  issues  are  epitomized  in  the  system  of 
industry.  Science  has  been  bent  industryward ; 
knowledge  is  knowledge  of  industry;  thought 
is  largely  of  industrial  problems ;  the  profound 
modifications  which  the  past  century  has  made 
in  the  aspect  of  the  physical  world  are,  for  the 
most  part,  modifications  due  to  the  new  methods 
of  making  a  living. 

The  path  to  sane  living  is  as  plainly  marked 
as  a  path  could  be.  What  normal  man,  aiming 
to  support  himself  and  to  live  his  life  as  a  nor- 
mal man  should,  can  miss  the  goal?  What  man 
indeed?  Of  course  the  answer  rests  in  a  meas- 
ure with  the  man  himself.  Then,  too,  it  is 
determined  by  his  training.  Most  of  all,  per- 
haps, it  is  conditioned  by  the  opportuni- 
ties which  present  themselves  for  earning  a 
living. 

It  is  pleasant  as  well  as  satisfying  to  ex- 
pound life-philosophy.  What  could  be  more 
simple  than  a  plea  for  welfare  and  for  human 

160 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  161 

rights?  They  are  sufficiently  removed  from  the 
world  of  affairs  to  be  inconsequential  to  all 
except  those  who  have  leisure  and  ability  for 
analysis,  deduction,  and  contemplation.  There 
are  other  things  in  life,  however,  which  play 
so  intimate  a  part  in  the  affairs  of  to-day  and 
to-morrow,  that  they  are  regarded  by  everyone 
— sometimes  with  dread,  sometimes  with  mis- 
giving, sometimes  with  joy,  sometimes  with 
anger  and  hate.  Among  these  things,  nothing 
plays  a  larger  part  in  the  lives  of  modem  men 
than  does  labor. 

There  is,  of  course,  a  handful  of  people  to 
whom  labor  is  but  a  word.  Living  lives  of  ease, 
shielded  from  the  world,  removed  from  all  pos- 
sible hardships  or  satisfactions,  they  exist  like 
imported  animals,  caged  from  all  except  their 
like,  in  an  atmosphere  with  a  regulated  temper- 
ature, surrounded  by  keepers  whose  duty  it  is 
to  see  that  they  do  not  escape  or  come  to  harm. 
Luckily,  a  census  of  the  kingdom  of  man  shows 
only  a  few  such  unfortunates.  They  exist 
only  in  sufficient  numbers  to  act  as  a  warn- 
ing to  their  virile  fellows,  of  the  abysses  which 
life  may  hold  for  the  well-born. 

The  great  majority  of  men  and  women  must 
labor  for  their  daily  bread.  At  least  as  much 
time  is  spent  in  earning  a  living  as  is  spent 
in  sleep.  Where  labor  is  the  sole  source  of 
income,  the  welfare  of  man  and  family  alike 
revolves  about  the  livelihood  contest.    Can  the 


162  SOCIAL  SANITY 

man  succeed?  Will  he  fail?  Wliat  are  the 
facts  of  his  life?  May  he  live  sanely  and  still 
work,  or  are  the  world  of  modern  industry  and 
sane  life  mutually  exclusive  terms?  Weighty 
questions  these,  and  pertinent  too,  in  view  of 
the^  widespread  unrest  and  discontent  with  the 
present  system  of  production. 

A  little  reflection  on  the  good  old  song  written 
by  the  man  who  had  been  working  on  the  rail- 
road all  the  livelong  day  for  the  sole  purpose 
of  passing  away  the  time,  leads  pretty  directly 
into  the  philosophy  of  work.  Did  the  monas- 
teries make  a  contribution  to  the  progress  of 
the  world  when  they  taught  the  stalwart  pagans 
of  western  Europe  that  labor  was  above  all 
things  worthy?  Certainly  one  of  these  sturdy 
dwellers  in  the  forests  would  have  disposed  of 
any  dozen  of  his  tubercular  tenement-dwell- 
ing descendants.  Why  should  work  be  holy? 
What  blessing  rests  upon  the  head  of  the 
industrious?  The  proud  American  Indian 
expressed  the  same  contempt  for  a  worker 
that  the  European  did  for  a  scalper.  Was  he 
wholly  wrong? 

The  primitive  savage  with  no  idea  of  the 
morrow,  nor  any  thought  save  for  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  moment,  never  can  understand  the 
philosophy  of  work;  but  since  it  has  become 
apparent  that  leisure  depends  on  production, 
which,  in  turn,  depends  on  work,  sages  have 
counseled  the  human  race  to  labor.    "  He  who 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  163 

will  not  work,  neither  shall  he  eat, ' '  proclaimed 
one  of  the  founders  of  the  New  World. 

Solomon  thus  adjures  the  idle,  *'  Go  to  the 
ant,  thou  sluggard,  consider  her  ways,  and  be 
wise,"  yet  it  is  perhaps  in  the  writings  of  Rus- 
kin  and  Carlyle  that  the  modern  work  philoso- 
phy is  best  expressed.  ''  There  is  a  working 
class,"  Ruskin  writes,  ''  strong  and  happy — 
among  both  rich  and  poor;  there  is  an  idle 
class, — weak,  wicked,  and  miserable — among 
both  rich  and  poor."*  It  is  with  work  and 
with  work  alone  that  the  worker  is  to  be  con- 
cerned. '^  I  think  the  object  of  a  workingman's 
ambition  should  not  be  to  become  a  master, 
but  to  attain  daily  more  subtle  and  exemplary 
skill  in  his  own  craft."  t  So  does  Carlyle  hurl 
aside  the  pursuit  after  mere  happiness. 
"  There  is  in  man  a  Higher  than  love  of  Hap- 
piness; he  can  do  without  Happiness,  and  in- 
stead thereof  find  Blessedness."  t  Again,  "  Be 
no  longer  a  Chaos,  but  a  world  or  even  world- 
kin.  Produce !  Produce !  Were  it  but  the  piti- 
fullest  infinitesimal  fraction  of  a  Product,  pro- 
duce it,  in  God's  name.  'Tis  the  utmost  thou 
hast  in  thee ;  out  with  it,  then !  Up,  up !  What- 
soever thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy 
whole  might.  Work  while  it  is  called  To-day; 
for  the  Night  cometh  wherein  no  man  can 
work. ' '  § 

*  "  Crown  of  Wild  Olive."  t  "  Sartor  Resartus." 

f  "  Time  and  Tide."  §  "  Ibid. 


164  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Brilliant  as  philosophy,  such  doctrines  have 
been  applied  in  the  most  extreme  form  in  the 
world  of  modern  industry,  until  work  has  be- 
come a  shibboleth,  a  sign  in  which  men  hope  to 
conquer.  Success  is  set  high  upon  a  golden 
pedestal,  and  men,  seeing  the  image  from  afar, 
bow  down  to  worship,  then,  inspired  by  the 
dazzling  brightness,  they  fall  to  "  hustling," 
sure  that  in  time  they  too  may  attain  success. 
Work-mad,  the  world  sacrifices  every  better 
thing  in  life  for  labor.  Before  pleasure — 
work;  before  happiness — work;  before  blessed- 
ness— work ;  before  life  itself— work !  Success ! 
success !  thou  mightiest  of  all  gods,  we  thy  hum- 
ble servants,  pausing  for  a  moment  in  our  haste 
to  contemplate  thy  wondrous  forms,  pledge 
our  lives,  our  fortunes,  our  families,  and  our 
sacred  time  to  thee  and  thy  cause.  Great  God, 
we  will  work ! 

This  is  the  pledge,  and  listen !  There  is  the 
humming  of  machines  in  tens  of  thousands  of 
sweatshops ;  the  clatter  of  the  coal  breaker ;  the 
roar  of  the  blast  furnace.  That  stench?  It  is 
the  stockyards.  They  are  at  work.  Hark,  a 
man  is  screaming!  He  has  been  caught  in  a 
fast  moving  machine,  hurled  aloft,  thrown  to 
earth,  hurled  aloft  again,  against  the  ceiling. 
His  human  shape  is  gone, — battered,  lifeless, 
an  inert  mass  drops  from  the  fly  wheel— dead ! 
Great  God,  help  him !  he  can  never  work  more. 
Faced  by  the  mad  rush  to  labor,  what  won- 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  165 

der  that  men  react  violently?  Who  has  seen 
a  man,  crushed  out  of  the  semblance  of  human 
form,  carried  to  his  simple  home;  or  met  a 
toiler  after  twelve  hours  of  labor;  or  watched 
the  fingers  of  young  girls  fly  over  an  endless 
line  of  tiny  threads;  and  not  felt  if  only  for  a 
moment  a  tinge  of  remorse?  The  brilliant  Paul 
La  Fargue  feels  it  strongly,  and  in  his  ''  Right 
to  Be  Lazy  "  voices  the  protest: — 

"  A  strange  delusion  possesses  the  working 
classes  of  the  nations  where  capitalist  civiliza- 
tion holds  its  sway.  This  delusion  draws  in 
its  train  the  individual  and  social  woes  which 
for  two  centuries  have  tortured  sad  humanity. 
This  delusion  is  the  love  of  work,  the  furious 
passion  for  work,  pushed  even  to  the  exhaus- 
tion of  the  vital  force  of  the  individual  and  his 
progeny.  In  capitalist  society  work  is  the  cause 
of  all  intellectual  degeneracy  and  of  organic  de- 
formity. Compare  the  thoroughbred  in  the 
Rothschild's  stables,  served  by  a  retinue  of  bi- 
peds, with  the  heavy  brute  of  the  Norman  farms 
which  plows  the  earth,  carts  the  manure,  hauls 
the  crops.  Look  at  the  noble  savage  whom  the 
missionaries  of  trade  and  the  traders  of  re- 
ligion have  not  yet  corrupted  with  Christianity, 
syphilis,  and  the  dogma  of  work,  and  then  look 
at  our  miserable  slaves  of  machines.  The 
Greeks  in  their  era  of  greatness  had  only  con- 
tempt for  work;  their  slaves  alone  were  per- 
mitted to  labor;  the  free  man  knew  only  ex- 


166  SOCIAL  SANITY 

ercises  for  the  body  and  mind.  Jesus,  in  His 
Sermon  on  the  Mount,  preached  idleness : '  Con- 
sider the  hlies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow ;  they 
toil  not,  neither  do  they  spin;  and  yet  I  say 
unto  you  that  even  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  those.'  " 

La  Fargue  then  discusses  the  results  of  work, 
describing  the  long,  hard  days  of  the  working 
children ;  of  the  factory  girls  and  women, ' '  pale, 
drooping  creatures  with  impoverished  blood, 
with  disordered  stomachs,  with  languid  limbs." 
He  shows  how  these  people  live  in  their  pseudo- 
homes,  and  concludes  his  analysis  with  the  state- 
ment, "  Our  epoch  has  been  called  the  century 
of  work.  It  is  in  fact  the  century  of  pain,  mis- 
ery, and  corruption." 

Concluding,  La  Fargue  cites  the  views  of  the 
ancients  regarding  work.  ' '  The  ancient  philos- 
ophers had  their  disputes  upon  the  origin  of 
ideas,  but  they  agreed  when  it  came  to  the 
abhorrence  of  work.  '  Nature,'  said  Plato  in 
his  model  republic,  '  Nature  has  made  no  shoe- 
maker nor  smith.  Such  occupations  are  by  their 
very  condition  excluded  from  political  rights. 
As  for  the  merchants  accustomed  to  lying  and 
deceiving,  they  will  be  allowed  in  the  city  only 
as  a  necessary  evil.  The  citizen  who  shall  have 
degraded  himself  by  the  commerce  of  the  shop 
shall  be  prosecuted  for  this  offense.  If  he  is 
convicted,  he  shall  be  condemned  to  a  year  in 
prison;  the  punishment  shall  be  doubled  for 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  167 

each  repeated  offense.'  "  '^  What  honorable 
thing  can  come  out  of  a  shop?  "  asks  Cicero. 
"  What  can  commerce  produce  in  the  way  of 
honor?  Everything  called  shop  is  unworthy 
an  honorable  man.  Merchants  can  gain  no 
profit  without  Ij^ng,  and  what  is  more  shame- 
ful than  falsehood?  Again,  we  must  regard  as 
something  base  and  vile  the  trade  of  those  who 
sell  their  toil  and  industry,  for  whoever  gives 
his  labor  for  money  sells  himself  and  puts  him- 
self in  the  rank  of  slaves."  Throughout  the 
more  advanced  civilizations  of  the  past.  La 
Fargue  finds  the  same  contempt  for  work. 

Summarizing  his  philosophy,  he  writes, — 
*'  Aristotle's  dream  is  our  reality.  Our  ma- 
chines with  breath  of  fire,  with  limbs  of  un- 
wearying steel,  with  fruitfulness,  wonderful,  in- 
exhaustible, accomplish  by  themselves  with  do- 
cility their  sacred  labor.  And  nevertheless  the 
genius  of  the  great  philosophers  of  capitalism 
remains  dominated  by  the  prejudice  of  the  wage 
system,  worst  of  slaveries.  They  do  not  yet 
understand  that  the  machine  is  the  savior  of 
humanity,  the  God  who  shall  redeem  man  from 
the  sordid  artes  and  from  working  for  hire,  the 
God  who  shall  give  him  leisure  and  liberty." 

Here  stand  the  two  extremes.  On  the  one 
side  Carlyle,  the  apostle  of  work;  on  the  other 
La  Fargue,  the  apostle  of  leisure.  With  what 
subtle  strength  does  Nietzsche  combine  the  two 
ideals, — sneering  at  the  overworker;  praising 


168  SOCIAL  SANITY 

idleness ;  yet  glorying,  too,  in  a  well-chosen  ef- 
fort. "  Ye  also  to  whom  life  is  stormful  labor 
and  unrest,  are  ye  not  wearied  of  life?  All  of 
you  to  whom  stormful  labor  is  dear,  and  what  is 
swift;  what  is  new  and  what  is  strange  are 
dear,  ye  bear  yourselves  ill;  your  industry  is 
retreat  and  will  to  forget  itself.  If  ye  had 
more  belief  in  life  ye  would  yield  yourselves 
less  to  the  moment.  But  ye  have  not  enough 
substance  within  you  to  enable  you  to  wait, 
not  even  to  idle."  Thus  does  Nietzsche  storm 
against  the  all-absorption  in  industrial  pursuits. 
Yet  he  believes  firmly  in  some  form  of  work,  for 
when  all  is  said,  at  the  end  of  his  profession  of 
faith,  he  writes,—"  My  woe  and  my  pity,  what 
matter?  Do  I  seek  for  happiness?  I  seek  for 
my  work!  "  * 

No  one  will  question  the  truth  of  the  protest 
that  "  Satan  finds  some  mischief  still  for  idle 
hands  to  do."  The  proverb  is,  indeed,  self- 
destructive,  since  really  idle  hands  are  as  rare 
as  hen's  teeth.  Nevertheless,  the  statement 
may  be  accepted  on  its  face  without  accepting 
the  reverse  proposition  that  busy  hands  are 
never  used  by  the  devil.  It  is,  of  course,  a 
trite  observation  that  some  of  the  hardest 
w^orkers  carry  in  their  jeans  a  through  ticket 
to  the  nether  world. 

One  thing  may  be  asserted,  however,  with  a 

* ' '  Thus  Spake  Zarathustra." 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  169 

fair  degree  of  certainty, — the  disuse  of  an  or- 
ganism which  has  potentialities  for  action  in- 
evitably means  degeneration.  Parasitism  in  the 
biologic  world  always  brings  its  own  doom  in 
the  decadence  of  the  parasite.  This  biologic 
truth  is  universal  in  its  application.  Idlers 
degenerate.  The  wages  of  inaction,  like  the 
wages  of  sin,  is  death. 

The  emphasis  on  idleness  is  in  no  real  sense 
fair,  however,  because  idleness  is  not  the  sole 
alternative  to  work.  The  true  antithesis  of 
work-time  is  not  idleness  but  leisure-time, — 
time  during  which  a  person  may  act  at  will. 
This  action  may  take  the  form  of  football,  or 
some  other  strenuous  physical  exercise ;  it  may 
take  the  form  of  painting,  writing,  or  some 
artistic  pursuit;  it  may  be  employed  in  crafts- 
manship work;  or  it  may  be  devoted  to  the 
study  of  science.  Whatever  its  form,  the  fact 
is  the  same — the  time  is  occupied  at  the  will 
of  the  person  concerned,  in  some  occupation 
other  than  that  involved  in  the  gaining  of  a 
livelihood. 

Thus  defined,  leisure  becomes  one  of  the 
greatest  heritages  of  the  human  race — one  of 
the  choicest  fruits  of  a  progressive  civilization. 
In  leisure  lies  the  very  wellspring  of  progress, 
for,  as  Lester  F.  Ward  has  shown  in  his  "  Ap- 
plied Sociology,"  most  of  the  great  contribu- 
tions to  human  progress  have  been  made  by 


170  SOCIAL  SANITY 

men  who  were  temporarily  released  from  the 
livelihood  struggle.  Whether  through  legacies, 
pensions,  royal  bounties,  generous  relatives,  or 
some  other  source,  these  men  were  freed  from 
the  crass  struggle  for  bread,  and  had  their  en- 
tire time  free  for  the  pursuit  of  their  life-work. 

Napoleon  may  have  been  in  error  when  he 
contrasted  work  and  vice.  Euskin  and  Carlyle 
may  not  have  analyzed  these  problems  beyond 
the  possibility  of  cavil.  Is  La  Fargue  right 
after  all?    Where  Hes  the  truth? 

Euskin  was  an  artist  and  a  craftsman.  With 
Carlyle,  a  man  of  letters,  he  spent  his  youth 
in  those  years  of  the  nineteenth  century  which 
preceded  the  Civil  War  in  the  United  States. 

Aside  from  the  drudgery  of  agricultural  la- 
bor, the  kind  of  work  which  Carlyle  and  Euskin 
saw  was  handicraft  work.  Starting  as  appren- 
tices, men  learned  their  trades,  journeyed 
about  the  country  practicing  them,  and  at  last 
settled  somewhere  as  master  craftsmen  who 
must,  in  turn,  hire  their  apprentices  and  jour- 
neymen. Thus  did  men  in  the  pursuit  of  their 
calling  secure  a  thorough  education  in  some 
trade,  and  see  the  country  before  establishing 
a  permanent  home.  Industry  was  hand-indus- 
try, and  hand-industry  involves  growth  and 
education. 

The  nineteenth  century  witnessed  the  anni- 
hilation of  handicrafts.  The  plumber,  painter, 
glazier,  and  plasterer  still  remain,  but  they  con- 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  171 

stitute  only  a  tiny  minority  of  the  vast  army 
of  factory  and  shop  workers,  whose  mechanical 
tasks  have  been  created  by  a  minute  subdivi- 
sion of  labor  and  a  widespread  introduction  of 
machinery.  Out  of  this  industrial  reorganiza- 
tion, there  has  evolved  a  type  of  factory  indus- 
try to  which  the  early  nineteenth  century  was 
an  utter  stranger. 

The  laborer  of  to-day  confronts  a  situation 
essentially  different  from  any  which  has  ever 
been  known  heretofore.  As  a  small  unit  in  a 
great  industrial  enterprise,  he  fails  to  produce 
a  finished  product.  The  dresser  of  bolt-heads 
never  sees  the  engine  of  which  his  bolts  become 
a  part.  The  silk-worker  in  Scranton  cleans  bob- 
bins, which,  when  filled,  are  sent  to  the  weavers 
of  Paterson,  where  they  are  converted  into 
broad-silk.  The  ballast  heaver,  on  the  four- 
track  main  line,  comes  his  nearest  to  creating 
a  product  when  he  makes  a  smooth  bed  over 
which  the  great  west-bound  express  may  glide. 
Eeview  the  industrial  army  from  vanguard  to 
camp  follower;  pass  through  the  great  factories 
from  top  to  bottom;  examine  the  shops  and 
mills ;  analyze  the  work  of  any  one  person,  and 
you  will  find  that  it  is  but  one  liliputian  ele- 
ment in  the  output  of  the  plant.  Here  and 
there  is  an  industry,  like  plumbing,  stained  glass 
making,  fine  cabinet  work,  jewel  cutting,  and 
the  like,  in  which  craftsmanship  still  exists. 
Even  here,  however,  it  is  giving  place  to  the 


172  SOCIAL  SANITY 

factory  metliod, — each  man  to  his  little  task  in 
the  great  organized  scheme. 

Because  men  have  ceased  to  turn  out  com- 
pleted articles,  because  craftsmanship  has  dis- 
appeared, men  have  lost  their  pride  of  work- 
manship. Not  one  person  in  fifty  can  point  to 
a  finished  article  saying,  "  I  made  it,  I  am  proud 
of  my  work!  "  With  the  disappearance  of 
craftsmanship  has  gone  one  of  the  chief  in- 
centives to  activity — the  glory  of  the  individual 
workman  in  doing  a  good  piece  of  work.  In 
the  multitude  of  specialized  and  subdivided 
factory  processes,  what  reward  shall  take  the 
place  of  this  pride  of  a  man  in  his  own  work? 

Further,  the  modern  worker  does  not  use  the 
things  which  he  produces.  If  he  makes  sausage, 
it  is  for  someone  else  to  eat;  he  who  builds 
Pullman  cars,  builds  them  for  others  to  ride 
in ;  the  producer  of  farm  wagons  and  machinery 
is  no  farmer;  the  employee  in  a  chocolate  fac- 
tory loathes  the  very  smell  of  chocolate;  the 
engine  builder  never  runs  an  engine,  nor  does 
the  worker  in  automobiles  run  a  machine.  One 
makes;  another  uses;  while  a  third  man  takes 
the  profits.  Where  in  the  alchemy  of  twentieth 
century  thought  can  be  found  a  method  of  es- 
tablishing an  interest  in  work  which  never  cre- 
ates an  entire  product,  and  the  product  of  which, 
when  it  is  created  by  a  thousand  inter-working 
processes,  goes  to  others  than  those  who 
made  it? 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  173 

Review  the  workers, — this  shipping  clerk, 
with  a  wife  and  two  bonnie  children  at  home, 
checking  up  cans  of  malted  milk  from  early 
morning  until  late  at  night.  Here  is  a  sales- 
girl who  came  to  the  city  to  be  an  actress,  and 
failing  in  that,  she  has  been  endeavoring  to 
make  an  honest  living  at  some  trade  or  other. 
Now  she  retails  notions.  Can  you  see  how  the 
passing  of  bone  buttons,  tape,  pins,  and  crochet 
needles  over  a  counter  should  make  the  hot 
blood  of  enthusiastic  interest  course  fast 
through  her  veins?  Watch  a  "  press-hand  " 
placing  bits  of  paper  under  a  form  of  type, 
to  make  hand-bills  for  a  chain  of  yellow  trad- 
ing-stamp grocery  stores.  Can  you  observe 
any  touch  of  inspiration  on  his  face  or  in  his 
eyes?  Yonder  coal-dumper  has  turned  a  hun- 
dred tons  of  coal  from  the  little  mine  cars  into 
the  great  railroad  cars  since  half-past  seven 
this  morning,  yet  he  thinks  that  his  family  of 
eight  may  be  both  hungry  and  cold  unless  there 
is  more  work  in  December  than  there  was  in 
October  and  November. 

There  are  men  in  responsible  positions,  there 
are  skilled  workers,  who  do  work  that  is  attrac- 
tive and  educative;  but  the  vast  majority  of 
occupations  offered  to  those  who  would  earn  a 
livelihood  are  mechanical,  monotonous,  never- 
ending,  wearisome,  stale,  and  commonplace  to 
the  last  degree. 

That  is  the  tale  of  modern  labor;  that  the 


174  SOCIAL  SANITY 

opportunity  which  twentieth  century  industry 
offers  to  most  of  its  workers.  Unskilled  or 
semi-skilled,  unrelated  to  the  product  which 
they  assist  in  creating,  dealt  with  in  masses 
of  hundreds  and  of  thousands,  known  by  de- 
partment and  by  number,  the  employees  of  mod- 
ern productive  enterprises  exchange  a  half  to 
three-fourths  of  their  waking  hours,  three  hun- 
dred and  odd  days  each  year,  for  a  wage  that 
shall  buy  them  a  living. 

Furthermore,  and  this  is  perhaps  the  most 
insidious  force  now  operating  in  the  world  of 
work, — industry  has  been  utterly  dehumanized. 
Once  upon  a  time  the  master  sat  with  his  ap- 
prentices and  journeymen,  coat  off,  and  toiled 
like  them  all  day.  At  noon  the  master's  wife 
summoned  them  all  to  dinner,  which  they  ate 
around  a  common  board.  First  names  passed 
from  mouth  to  mouth.  All  were  human  beings, 
and  all  were  on  a  level,  humanly. 

Then,  as  the  factory  replaced  the  home  shop, 
master  and  men  went  from  home  to  work.  Still 
they  walked  to  and  fro ;  still  they  used  the  first 
name ;  still  they  knew  when  grandmothers  were 
sick  and  when  babies  were  born ;  still  they  dealt 
with  one  another  man  to  man.  Still  they  were 
human. 

Finally,  with  the  growth  of  industry,  with 
specialization,  with  centralized  finances,  the 
change  came  which  has  placed  the  laborer  where 
he  now  is, — a  cog  in  a  whirling  mechanism. 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  175 

The  master  goes  to  his  office  in  an  automobile, 
— an  office  often  located  in  another  part  of  town, 
or  in  another  city  from  the  factory.  He  break- 
fasts at  seven  or  eight,  lunches  at  the  club,  and 
goes  home  early.  Sometimes  he  does  not  come 
in  on  Saturdays.  Even  where  he  works  twelve 
hours  a  day,  he  seldom  sees  his  working  people. 
He  is  the  president  of  a  corporation  which  owns 
the  mill.  Is  the  corporation  human?  No,  it  is 
a  legal  personality !  Do  the  workers  know  the 
master  1  Of  course  not,  they  may  not  even  know 
his  face  on  the  street.  The  worker  reports  to 
the  time-clock;  he  has  a  number;  he  deals  with 
the  foreman  or  with  the  superintendent.  From 
the  relations  between  master  and  men  the  de- 
velopments of  modern  industry  have  taken 
every  element  of  human  relationship. 

Last  of  all  comes  scientific  management  to 
tie  up,  with  card  systems  and  tape  of  blood  hue, 
the  wreckage  of  individual  interest  and  enthu- 
siasm which  passes  in  the  train  of  present-day 
toil.  Efficiency  is  its  catchword.  To  efficiency 
the  world  is  turning  for  leisure — for  salvation. 

No  word  in  recent  years  has  sprung  so  gen- 
erally into  popular  favor  as  "  efficiency."  Con- 
noting, in  a  peculiarly  direct  manner,  the  spirit 
of  American  enterprise,  the  word  has  become 
a  shibboleth.  Books  appear  with  "  efficiency  " 
in  the  title  or  sub-title;  magazines  are  devoted 
to  its  praise;  teachers  conjure  with  it;  min- 
isters  adopt   it;    and   business   men   deify   it. 


176  SOCIAL  SANITY 

*'  Efficiency  "  is  the  standard-bearer  of  indus- 
trial, educational,  civic,  social,  and  religious 
advance. 

Efficiency  is  the  capacity  to  attain  given  ends 
with  the  least  possible  expenditure  of  means. 
The  lawyer  can  be  more  efficient  in  preparing 
his  brief;  the  doctor  in  interviewing  his  pa- 
tients; the  hod-carrier  in  climbing  the  ladder; 
the  shoemaker  in  driving  pegs;  the  teacher  in 
pointing  up  a  lesson;  the  salesman  in  present- 
ing his  goods;  the  housewife  in  cooking  and 
preparing  dinner ;  the  official  in  making  out  tax 
bills;  the  nation  in  its  appropriation  and  ex- 
penditures of  moneys.  Employed  in  this  broad 
sense,  efficiency,  like  charity,  covers  a  multitude 
of  sins.  This  is  not,  however,  the  sense  in 
which  the  term  is  generally  applied.  In  in- 
dustry, where  the  word  has  been  most  widely 
used,  efficiency  takes  the  form  of  scientific 
management.  In  the  eyes  of  the  scientific  man- 
ager, there  is  no  "  best  "  way.  Each  method, 
each  department,  each  job,  each  operation  is 
susceptible  of  a  continuous  process  of  change, 
aimed  always  at  the  ultimate  goal  of  securing 
the  product  with  the  least  expenditure  of  cap- 
ital and  labor.  No  existing  process  is  sacred. 
All  methods,  formulas,  and  systems  are  open  to 
criticism  and  reorganization. 

The  primary  advantage  of  such  a  doctrine  is 
the  utter  break  from  tradition  which  it  implies. 
When  an  individual  institution  is  organized  on 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  177 

a  basis  of  respect  for  old  methods,  progress  is 
next  to  impossible.  Only  when  the  scientific 
spirit  of  experimentation  grips  the  minds  of 
men  can  changes  be  made.  Thus  underlying  sci- 
entific management  is  the  fundamental  principle 
that  the  present  is  ever  subject  to  analysis; 
and  further  that  industry  must  accept  and  act 
upon  the  results  of  such  analysis,  no  matter 
what  they  may  be. 

The  other  essential  element  in  scientific  man- 
agement is  the  elimination  of  waste.  Efficiency 
and  waste  are  the  antipodes  of  industrial  proc- 
esses. The  presence  of  one  necessarily  implies 
the  absence  of  the  other. 

Proceeding  on  these  two  principles — the  fear- 
less challenging  of  the  present  and  the  elimina- 
tion of  waste — the  advocates  of  scientific  man- 
agement have  performed  wonders  in  the  reor- 
ganization of  industry.  Armed  with  stop- 
watches and  time-cards,  cost-systems,  visible 
indexes,  job-sheets,  and  the  like,  the  forerunners 
of  a  new  industry  have  prepared  to  revolution- 
ize the  old  system  of  producing  goods.  Some 
of  the  most  apparent  instances  of  increasing 
efficiency  are  furnished  by  the  work  of  Fred- 
erick W.  Taylor,  the  pioneer  of  scientific  man- 
agement. One  of  Mr.  Taylor's  first  large-scale 
adventures  in  scientific  management  was  that 
in  the  works  of  the  South  Bethlehem  Steel  Com- 
pany. In  a  field  adjoining  the  mills  was  80,000 
tons  of  pig-iron,  piled  in  small  piles  along  a 


178  SOCIAL  SANITY 

railroad  siding.  An  inclined  plank  was  placed 
against  the  side  of  a  car,  and  each  man  picked 
up  from  his  pile  a  pig  of  iron  weighing  about 
ninety-two  pounds,  walked  up  the  inclined 
plank,  and  dropped  it  on  the  end  of  the  car. 

The  company  had  a  pig-iron  gang  consisting 
of  about  seventy-five  men,  who  were  in  charge 
of  an  excellent  foreman,  who  had  been  a  pig- 
iron  handler.  "  This  gang  was  loading  on  the 
average  about  twelve  and  one-half  long  tons 
per  man  per  day.  We  were  surprised  to  find, 
after  a  scientific  study  of  the  men  at  work,  that 
a  first-class  pig-iron  handler  ought  to  handle 
between  forty-seven  and  forty-eight  long  tons 
per  day,  instead  of  twelve  and  one-half  tones. 
.  .  .  Once  we  were  sure  that  forty-seven  tons 
was  a  proper  day's  work  for  a  first-class  pig- 
iron  handler,  it  was  our  duty  to  see  that  the 
80,000  tons  of  pig-iron  piled  on  the  open  lot 
was  loaded  on  to  the  cars  at  the  rate  of  forty- 
seven  tons  per  man  per  day,  in  place  of  twelve 
and  one-half  tons.  And  it  was  further  our 
duty  to  see  that  this  work  was  done  without 
bringing  on  a  strike  among  the  men,  without 
any  quarrel  with  the  men,  and  to  see  that  the 
men  were  happier  and  better  contented  with 
loading  at  the  new  rate  of  forty-seven  tons  than 
they  were  when  loading  at  the  old  rate  of  twelve 
and  one-half  tons."  * 

*  "  The  Gospel  of  Efficiency,"  The  American  Magazine.  March, 
1911.     Vol.  XXL,  p.  577. 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  179 

The  first  practical  step,  therefore,  was  the 
scientific  selection  of  the  workmen.  With  great 
care  Mr.  Taylor  elaborates  on  the  method 
which  he  employed  in  picking  men  who  could 
handle  forty-seven  tons  of  pig-iron  daily. 

They  must  be  dealt  with  individually;  they 
must  be  docile.  The  language  which  Mr.  Tay- 
lor quotes  himself  as  using  is  harsh.  He  ex- 
cuses himself  in  these  words: — "  This  seems  to 
be  rather  rough  talk.  And  indeed  it  would  be 
if  applied  to  an  educated  mechanic,  or  even  an 
educated  laborer.  With  a  man  of  the  mental 
type  of  Schmidt,  it  is  appropriate  and  not  un- 
kind." It  is  not  an  equal,  not  even  an  "  in- 
telligent laborer,"  to  whom  Mr.  Taylor's 
method  appeals.  It  is  a  man  who  will  not  re- 
sent abuse,  and  who  will  have  no  will  of  his 
own, — a  paid  mechanic  in  human  form. 

Mr.  Taylor's  scheme  worked.  At  the  first 
trial  Schmidt  loaded  forty-seven  and  one-half 
tons  of  pig-iron.  After  that  day  '^  he  practi- 
cally never  failed  to  work  at  this  pace  and  to 
do  the  task  that  was  set  him  during  the  three 
years  that  the  writer  was  at  Bethlehem.  And 
throughout  this  time  he  averaged  a  little  more 
than  $1.85  per  day,  whereas  before  he  had  never 
received  over  $1.15  per  day,  which  was  the  rul- 
ing rate  of  wages  at  that  time  in  Bethlehem. 
One  man  after  another  was  picked  out  and 
trained  to  handle  pig-iron  at  the  rate  of  forty- 
seven  and  one-half  tons  per  day,  until  all  of  the 


180  SOCIAE  SANITY 

pig-iron  was  bandied  at  this  rate,  and  all  of  this 
gang  were  receiving  sixty  per  cent  more  wages 
than  other  workmen  around  them." 

The  output  was  quadrupled;  the  wage  ad- 
vance sixty  per  cent.  Each  pig-iron  handler 
did  the  same  task  four  times  oftener  during 
each  eleven  hours.  To  be  sure  he  was  scien- 
tifically guided ;  his  steps  were  counted  and  his 
time  was  watched,  but  the  weariness  incident 
to  the  sameness  of  his  work  was  intensified 
perhaps  ten-fold. 

Mr.  Taylor  is  a  plausible  writer.  How  splen- 
did his  scheme  for  Schmidt's  welfare  sounds, 
yet  it  is  perfectly  conceivable  that  Schmidt,  at 
$1.15  per  day,  loading  twelve  and  one-half  tons 
of  pig-iron,  would  be  a  longer-lived,  happier 
man,  beside  being  a  better  husband  and  a  more 
useful  citizen.  Mr.  Taylor  really  confesses  as 
much  when  he  adds : — 

''  It  is  a  fact  that  in  this  gang  of  seventy-five 
pig-iron  handlers,  only  about  one  man  in  eight 
was  physically  capable  of  handling  forty-seven 
and  one-half  tons  per  day.  With  the  very  best 
of  intentions,  the  other  seven  out  of  eight  were 
physically  unable  to  work  at  this  pace.  Now, 
the  one  man  in  eight  who  was  able  to  do  this 
work  was  in  no  sense  superior  to  the  other  men 
who  were  working  on  the  gang.  He  merely 
happened  to  be  a  man  of  the  type  of  the  ox — 
no  rare  specimen  of  humanity,  difficult  to  find, 
jand  therefore  very  highly  prized.    On  the  con- 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  181 

trary,  lie  was  a  man  so  stupid  that  lie  was 
unfitted  to  do  most  kinds  of  laboring  work 
even. ' '  * 

What  is  this?  Is  it  the  ox-type  of  man  who 
best  performs  Mr.  Taylor's  scientific  bidding? 
This  is  the  type  of  which  Markham  writes : — 

"  Who  made  him  dead  to  rapture  and  remorse, 
A   thing   that  grieves  not,   and  that   never 

hopes. 
Stolid  and  shunned,  a  brother  to  the  ox?  " 

It  is  not  of  such  material  that  good  fathers  and 
useful  citizens  are  raised  up.  Beware,  Mr. 
Efficiency-advocate,  lest  in  your  pursuit  of 
efficiency  you  trample  upon  the  human  spirit, 
putting  a  premium  on  thoughtless  machines  in- 
stead of  virile  men. 

Yet  this  gospel  of  efficiency,  like  many  an- 
other gospel,  is  fraught  with  hope  for  man  and 
for  mankind.  Efficiency  pays;  efficiency  leads 
to  leisure.  Leisure  spells  opportunity.  In 
efficiency,  therefore,  lies  the  hope  of  democracy. 

There  can  be  no  question  but  that  increased 
efficiency  means  a  greater  production  of  goods, 
which  may  or  may  not  involve  a  greater  ex- 
penditure of  human  energy.  In  any  case  it 
effects  an  enormous  increase  in  the  productive 
potentiality  of  the  community. 

This  increase  in  potential  productiveness  may 

*  Supra,  p.  579. 


182  SOCIAL  SANITY 

be  turned  in  tlie  direction  of  future  production, 
— that  is,  it  may  be  used  as  capital;  or  it  may 
be  employed  to  decrease  the  number  of  working 
hours  per  day,  or  of  days  per  week.  If  the 
former  result  obtains,  the  wealth  of  society  is 
increased;  the  latter  result  gives  additional 
leisure,  and,  therefore,  additional  opportunity 
for  sane  living. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  overestimate  the  im- 
portance both  to  the  individual  and  to  the  com- 
munity of  this  extension  of  opportunity.  In 
every  form  of  activity  from  a  foot-race  to  the 
most  distinguished  career,  opportunity  is  nec- 
essary to  achievement.  The  runner  requires  a 
fair  race  over  a  good  course,  to  show  his  fleet- 
ness.  The  citizen  requires  a  fair  chance  in  a 
normal  society  to  develop  his  best  qualities. 
If  the  runner  is  continually  tripped  and  jostled 
by  other  contestants,  his  race  is  spoiled  in  ex- 
actly the  same  way  that  the  life  of  an  able 
man  who  lacks  fair  opportunity  is  spoiled.  Op- 
portunity is  the  open  door  to  individual  and 
social  welfare. 

Opportunity  is  an  equal  chance  given  to  the 
members  of  each  generation  to  become  unequal. 
Far  from  signifying  equality,  opportunity  in- 
volves only  the  thought  that  each  person  have 
an  equal  start,  and  a  fair  course  over  which 
to  run.  The  "  starter  "  who  shoots  the  pistol 
for  the  mile  race  does  not  make  the  runners 
equal  when  he  insists  that  each  start  at  the 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  183 

same  time  from  the  same  mark;  on  the  con- 
trary, he  gives  the  contestants  a  fair  chance 
to  show  how  unequal  they  really  are.  Those 
who  urge  the  necessity  of  opportunity  are  do- 
ing no  more  than  the  starter, — insisting  that 
each  contestant  in  the  race  of  life  shall  start 
fully  prepared,  with  an  equal  chance  to  do  good 
work. 

America  to-day  presents  rare  opportunities. 
The  immense  strides  made  in  productive  effi- 
ciency supply  ample  amounts  of  goods.  Over- 
work is  no  longer  necessary ;  leisure  is  possible 
for  all.  The  possibilities  for  opportunity  were 
limited  in  the  eighteenth  century  by  the  limita- 
tions of  ignorance,  lack  of  wealth,  shortage  of 
tools  and  appliances,  and  capacity  must  de- 
velop as  best  it  could.  In  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury the  possibilities  for  opportunity  have  in- 
creased a  hundred-fold.  Each  widening  of  the 
borders  of  the  kingdom  of  man  signifies  a 
widening  of  man's  opportunities.  It  is  not 
enough  that  we  do  as  our  fathers ;  the  increased 
possibilities  for  effective  living  which  present 
themselves  to  us  to-day  demand  that  we  better 
their  instruction. 

Industrial  efficiency  is  the  greatest  boon 
which  the  modern  world  offers  to  mankind  be- 
cause out  of  it  may  develop  leisure  and  oppor- 
tunity on  a  scale  heretofore  undreamed  of. 
Productive  efficiency  pours  into  the  coffers  of 
society  a  stream  of  wealth  which  assures  a  sup- 


184  SOCIAL  SANITY 

ply  of  economic  goods  for  everyone,  at  the  same 
time  removing  forever  the  necessity  for  the 
twelve-hour  day,  for  the  overwork  of  women, 
or  the  labor  of  children.  Productive  efficiency 
permits  the  economic  reorganization  of  modern 
society. 

Efficiency  must  go  beyond  production,  how- 
ever, if  it  is  to  play  its  full  part  in  the  progress 
of  civilization. 

The  vast  industrial  machine  which  the  nine- 
teenth century  reared  around  us  is  efficient  in 
the  creation  of  economic  goods.  The  reaper 
does  in  one  day  the  work  of  fifty  men;  the 
traction  engine  plows  twenty  furrows  at  the 
same  time;  iron  ore  is  dug  from  the  ground 
and  thrown  into  cars  by  a  steam  shovel,  trans- 
ported to  the  steamer  by  a  locomotive,  shot  into 
the  ore  hold  by  gravity,  picked  up  by  a 
grab-bucket  that  seizes  ten  tons  at  a  grab,  loaded 
again  into  cars,  hauled  to  the  ironworks, 
dumped  from  the  cars,  and  carried  up  into  the 
blast  furnace  without  the  exertion  of  human 
muscles. 

The  electric  crane  saves  human  backs.  The 
railroad  spares  horses'  legs.  The  motor  sings 
its  song  of  mechanical  power ;  the  loom  rattles ; 
the  hammer  shouts;  the  blast  furnace  roars. 
Daily  they  unite  in  proclaiming  the  efficiency 
of  inventions  driven  by  mechanical  power. 

Yet  the  thread  of  life  is  drawn  out  and  the 
shears  of  fate  are  lifted  against  that  nation 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  185 

which  is  not  efficient  in  the  consumption  and 
distribution  as  well  as  in  the  production  of 
wealth. 

The  production  of  goods  does  not  insure 
welfare.  We  who  are  engaged  in  sedentary  pur- 
suits continue  to  eat  great  quantities  of  meat, 
thus  decreasing  our  efficiency  and  shortening 
our  lives.  Our  houses  are  too  large;  we  have 
shut  out  air  and  sunshine  and  shut  in  tuberculo- 
sis germs.  We  clothe  ourselves  in  conformity  to 
a  European  mode,  neglecting  the  demands  of 
our  own  climate.  We  have  not  as  yet  learned 
the  lesson  of  efficiency  in  consumption. 

Nay,  more,  we  are  hopelessly  untutored  in 
distributive  efficiency. 

Are  those  growing  children  still  living  on 
white  bread  soaked  in  tea!  This  worker's  house 
is  broken  and  unsanitary.  That  baby  is  drink- 
ing formalin  with  its  milk,  while  its  mother 
stretches  a  stationary  wage  over  a  steadily 
rising  cost  of  life.  These  people  have  not 
enough  goods  to  satisfy  the  bare  necessities  of 
life — they  suffer  and  despair — because  in  the 
distribution  of  the  products  of  industry  they 
were  forgotten.  Enough  was  produced,  and  to 
spare — efficiency  was  responsible  for  that;  but 
some  grabbed  more  than  their  share,  and  the 
balance  did  not  go  around.  There  is  therefore 
gross  inefficiency  in  the  system  of  distribution. 

Productive  efficiency  alone  will  not  suffice 
unless  there  is  established  and  maintained  effi- 


186  SOCIAL  SANITY 

ciency  in  consumption  and  distribution;  even 
productive  efficiency  cannot  be  maintained,  as 
an  isolated  phenomenon,  since  the  workers,  on 
whom  productive  efficiency  must  finally  depend, 
are  deprived  of  the  means  of  maintaining  effi- 
ciency standards  of  living. 

Productive  efficiency  is  well ;  efficiency  in  con- 
sumption is  better;  but  an  efficient  system  of 
distribution  is  best  of  all,  since  it  makes  possible 
efficiency  throughout  all  parts  of  society. 

Efficiency  in  production  makes  democracy  an 
attainable  norm  instead  of  an  unattainable 
ideal.  With  an  efficient  system  of  production, 
all  may  secure  education  and  enjoy  leisure  in 
which  to  think  and  grow.  Efficiency  in  con- 
sumption and  in  distribution  assures  this  edu- 
cation and  leisure  to  all,  thus  laying  the  founda- 
tion for  prosperity  and  for  democracy. 

This  discussion  has  been  aimed  at  the  essen- 
tial characteristics  of  modern  industry.  So 
many  discussions  of  the  industrial  issues  are 
complicated  by  passion !  So  often  the  inciden- 
tal matters  connected  with  the  system  lead  the 
thought  from  the  main  issues,  that  all  refer- 
ence to  those  non-essential  phases  of  industrial 
life  have  been  omitted. 

Here  is  no  mention  of  the  tens  of  thousands 
of  little  children  who  live  and  atrophy  in  the 
cotton  mills  and  the  glass  houses ;  no  word  has 
been  said  of  women  speeded  up  to  the  last  de- 
gree of  human  endurance,  working  long  hours 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  187 

for  starvation  wages ;  no  emphasis  has  been  laid 
on  the  overwork  and  low  wages  of  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  semi-skilled  and  unskilled  men  who 
constitute  such  a  large  portion  of  the  rank  and 
file  of  the  industrial  army.  Read  the  report  of 
the  Industrial  Commission,  of  the  Federal  in- 
vestigation into  the  work  of  women  and  children, 
of  the  investigation  into  wages  and  hours  in  the 
steel  industry.  Turn  the  pages  of  the  Pittsburg 
Survey.  Examine  any  one  of  a  hundred  books 
which  have  recently  appeared,  describing  the 
baser  side  of  the  lives  of  those  who  labor, — the 
unsanitation  of  houses  and  factories,  the  over- 
crowding, overwork,  accidents,  and  underpay  in 
occupations,  some  of  which,  like  work  in  lead 
and  phosphorus  factories,  and  structural  iron 
and  steel  work,  involve  an  extraordinary  risk 
to  life  and  health.  Tens  of  thousands  of  pages 
have  been  filled  with  the  record  of  these  things, 
yet  they  are  not  a  necessary  part  of  the  present 
industrial  system,  and  therefore,  they  have  been 
omitted  from  the  discussion  and  attention  called 
only  to  the  regular  tasks — the  ordinary  things 
— in  the  lives  of  the  workers. 

Considered  thus,  in  its  most  favorable  light, 
the  system  of  modem  industry  appears  as  a 
dismal,  somber,  lowering,  murky  defile  through 
which  men  and  women  pass.  For  long  hours 
each  day  they  put  forth  effort  on  tasks  which 
in  the  wildest  reach  of  the  imagination  could 
have  no  permanent  interest  for  a  sane  person; 


188  SOCIAL  SANITY 

the  product  of  these  tasks  they  do  not,  cannot 
use.  Their  work  is  meaningless  as  far  as  re- 
sults go;  it  bears  no  apparent  relation  to  fhe 
work  of  the  rest  of  the  industrial  world;  it  is 
uneducative,  and  in  the  last  degree  monotonous. 
Yet  in  this  barren  defile  called  modern  industry 
are  created  the  products  which  adorn  our  houses 
and  satisfy  our  lives. 

Is  this  blessedness?  Do  men  gather  forti- 
tude, nobility  of  spirit,  and  enthusiasm  from 
such  labor?  They  make  nothing  entire;  they 
cannot  consume  the  fruits  of  their  own  indus- 
try; they  are  not  even  recompensed  in  propor- 
tion to  the  amount  which  they  produce;  for 
long  hours,  surrounded  by  jarring  sights  and 
discordant  sounds,  they  toil  to  create  wealth. 
What  think  you  if  a  man,  having  twelve  hours 
in  a  day  free  from  the  necessary  duties  of  liv- 
ing, spends  ten  of  these  in  the  doing  of  a  thing 
which  in  its  very  nature  cannot  be  interesting 
to  him!  Is  such  a  man  blessed?  Mayhap,  if 
blessedness  have  a  new  meaning,  but  if  the  old 
meaning  is  still  attached  to  the  word,  then  such 
a  man  is  damned,  not  blessed,  for  damnation 
consists  in  doing  those  things  which  are  hate- 
ful, because  into  them  men  cannot  put  their 
whole  hearts. 

In  the  evolution  of  industry,  a  point  has  been 
reached  where  the  vast  majority  of  those  who 
labor  have  for  their  tasks  clock-watching  occu- 
pations.     The   hours    never    fly — they    crawl. 


LIFE  AND  LABOR  189 

Each  sixty  minutes  which  passes  is  sixty  min- 
utes nearer  quitting  time — the  time  of  rest  and 
freedom.  In  such  labor  there  is  no  joy.  In 
such  monotony  there  can  be  no  satisfaction. 
Highly  specialized  factory  work  is  hell  raised 
to  the  n^'^  power.  With  every  nerve  taut,  with 
every  fiber  stretched  to  the  limit  of  its  capacity, 
these  workers  strain  to  make,  in  their  day, 
enough  pieces, — perhaps  a  hundred,  perhaps 
five  hundred, — to  buy  only  this— their  daily 
bread. 

The  present  system  of  industry  will  not  last 
forever.  It  represents  only  one  scene  of  the 
great  industrial  panorama  which  has  been  un- 
folding since  man  first  learned  to  use  tools.  No 
man  can  say  what  the  future  holds ;  yet  so  long 
as  specialized  industry  remains  what  it  is — a 
hopeless  treadmill  for  the  great  mass  of  the 
workers;  so  long  as  hate  and  loathing,  not  joy 
and  blessedness,  are  involved  in  its  processes; 
so  long  as  each  additional  hour  of  labor  counts 
one  additional  hour  of  pain;  then  the  less  of 
it  the  better.  No  sane  person  can  continue  in- 
definitely to  demand  of  men  eternal  service  of 
a  machine.  No  sound  thinker  can  expect  that 
human  beings  will  love  that  in  which  there  is  no 
joy.  Modern  specialized  industry — a  task-mas- 
ter armed  with  the  sharp  thong  of  hunger — 
drives  men  and  women  and  even  children  to  do 
things  which  they  prefer  not  to  do.  How  soon 
— men  and  women — leaders  of  the  great  march 


190  SOCIAL  SANITY 

toward  social  sanity,  shall  we  rob  industry  of 
its  fangs'? 

One  question  a  sane  society  will  ask — *'  In 
how  many  hours  of  such  labor  can  men  make 
enough  goods  to  supply  themselves  with  the 
necessaries  and  comforts  of  life?  Can  it  be 
done  in  ten  hours?  Then  ten  hours  must  be 
the  day's  labor.  Can  it  be  done  in  eight  hours? 
Then  set  the  labor  day  at  that  amount."  It  is 
the  enthusiasm  and  joy  of  leisure,  not  the  nerve- 
racking  misery  of  factory  labor,  which  is  the 
goal  of  sane  living.  That  leisure  may  be  gained 
in  one  way — by  working  long  enough  to  provide 
for  everyone  the  necessaries  and  comforts  of 
life.  Each  invention,  each  scientific  discovery, 
each  improved  process,  each  new  method  which 
increases  the  efficiency  of  industry,  should,  in 
like  measure,  reduce  the  time  during  which  men 
must  labor. 

Of  those  who  labor,  this  alone  remains  to  be 
said, — industry  was  made  for  man.  When  in- 
dustry has  so  wrought  that  it  will  serve  the 
needs  of  man,  uninteresting  labor  must  cease. 


IX 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY 

The  present  age  like  every  other  bases  its 
permanence  on  human  effort.  To-day,  however, 
that  effort  has  assumed  a  form  which  is  new 
to  history.  Machinery,  labor-saving  devices, 
power,  and  great  factories  such  as  those  which 
cover  the  industrial  districts  are  the  product 
of  this  age  and  this  alone.  Men  and  women, 
laboring  in  the  workshops  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury, create  immense  sums  of  wealth, — the  fruits 
of  industry.  Since  they  sacrifice  so  much  in 
misery  and  pain  for  the  purpose  of  producing 
this  wealth,  one  might  expect  that  their  share 
of  it  would  be  great  indeed. 

The  fruits  of  American  industry  are  vast — 
unthinkably  vast.  The  wealth  which  modern 
industries  create,  pouring  forth  in  a  never 
ending  stream,  clothes  and  feeds  the  body;  pro- 
vides shelter;  beautifies  the  home;  facilitates 
travel;  opens  schools;  creates  boundless  stores 
of  luxury.  All  of  the  marvels  of  the  ancient 
world  are  not  to  be  compared  with  this.  The 
seven  wonders  become  the  merest  commonplace. 
With  a  magician's  wand  we  create  the  things 
which  we  need  and  enjoy. 

191 


192  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Yet  questions  are  raised.  Malcontents  utter 
their  dismal  voices  in  the  streets,  appealing, 
objecting,  warning.  ''  The  producers  of  this 
wealth  never  receive  it,"  they  cry.  "  The 
fruits  of  industry  go  to  those  who  played  no 
part  in  bringing  them  into  existence.  In  this 
— your  vaunted  kingdom  of  man — there  are 
gaping  injustices.  Man  may  be  king,  but  his 
throne  is  a  machine,  and  his  royal  robe  is  of 
rags."  So  loud,  so  insistent,  has  this  complaint 
grown,  that  at  last  it  has  been  listened  to,  here 
and  there.  The  listeners  have  thought,  ques- 
tioned, investigated,  analyzed,  discussed,  and 
concluded  that  in  certain  respects  the  malcon- 
tent is  right.  That  there  is,  in  truth,  a  grievous 
unfairness  in  the  manner  of  dividing  up  the 
fruits  of  industry. 

The  wealth  of  society,  the  result  of  its  pro- 
ductive system,  is  the  outcome  of  natural  re- 
sources, tools,  and  human  effort.  The  present 
productive  system  in  the  United  States  is  based 
first  upon  an  unexcelled  store  of  natural  re- 
sources. Coal,  copper,  iron,  water  power,  tim- 
ber, fertile  soil,  rivers  and  harbors,  challenge 
the  world  for  duplication.  These  resources 
were  here  when  our  forefathers  made  their  suc- 
cessful trip  in  the  Mayflower:  they  had  been 
here  then  for  countless  ages.  No  man  was  re- 
sponsible for  bringing  them  into  being:  no  hu- 
man effort  had  created  them.  Like  the  world  in 
which  men  live  these  resources  were  a  part  of 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       193 

the  heritage  of  the  human  race — a  part  of  man's 
kingdom. 

The  great  wealth-producing  power  of  the 
nation  is  due,  in  the  second  place,  to  the  store 
of  tools  without  which  any  extensive  exploita- 
ti(  n.  of  the  natural  resources  would  have  been 
impossible.  From  the  day  when  Watt  har- 
nessed steam,  through  all  of  the  succeeding 
years  of  invention  and  scientific  discovery,  men 
and  women  have  been  completing  the  tools  of 
present-day  industry.  Steam  shovels,  electric 
cranes,  automatic  envelope  machines,  knitters, 
printing  presses,  sewing  machines,  gas  engines, 
traction  plows,  reapers  and  binders,  power 
sprayers,  electric  traction,  are  all  part  and  par- 
cel of  the  productive  mechanism  which  has  been 
perfected  during  the  last  century  and  a  half. 
No  one  man  was  responsible  for  any  of  these 
tools.  The  inventions  of  each  inventor  rested 
upon  the  inventions  which  had  preceded,  as  the 
bricks  of  one  tier  rest  on  the  bricks  of  the  tier 
below.  Without  the  electrical  discoveries  of 
the  early  nineteenth  century,  Edison's  work 
would  have  proved  impossible.  It  is  only  with 
the  scientific  achievements  of  his  predecessors 
as  a  background  that  Burbank  can  remake  veg- 
etation. The  tools  of  production  are  a  social 
product, — the  creation  of  millions  of  burning 
brains  and  eager  hands.  The  resources  came, 
no  man  can  say  whither,  but  the  productive 
tools — the  agents  of  mechanics — are  a  part  of 


194  SOCIAL  SANITY 

the  kingdom  which  man  has  been  building  since 
he  learned  to  use  a  stick  or  a  stone  to  shape 
other  sticks  and  stones  for  his  uses. 

In  the  third  place,  industry  rests  upon  in- 
dustrial effort,  which  is  the  one  really  personal 
element  in  wealth  production.  Even  effort  can- 
not be  wholly  individual,  however,  because  no 
one  person  can  use  modern  tools.  They  are  so 
vast,  so  completely  inter-dependent,  that  only 
through  co-operation  in  industrial  activity  can 
men  hope  to  create  the  fruits  of  the  industry. 
The  factory  is  manned  by  a  thousand,  the  mine 
by  five  hundred.  Modern  tools  are  group  tools, 
usable  only  by  groups. 

Thus  of  the  three  factors  in  the  production 
of  wealth — resources,  tools,  and  effort, — two  are 
a  common  heritage,  while  the  third,  though  in 
a  measure  individual,  cannot  be  truly  effective 
unless  socially  employed.  Productive  processes 
are  therefore  primarily  social  processes,  de- 
pending for  their  effectiveness  upon  the  work- 
ing together  of  masses  of  men  and  women. 

Furthermore,  since  no  wealth  can  be  created 
without  resources,  tools,  and  effort,  and  since 
resources  and  tools  are  passive  agents  rather 
than  active  participators  in  industrial  activity, 
it  follows  that  the  motive  force  in  industry 
comes  through  human  effort.  More  than  that, 
the  productive  processes  are  carried  forward 
in  order  that  people  may  have  the  things  which 
they  want  to  use.     Neither  the  resources  nor 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       195 

the  tools  are  ultimately  to  be  considered.  The 
whole  productive  machinery  centers  around  the 
consumer,  the  user.  It  were  idle  to  make  a 
harvester  if  no  one  used  flour.  Silk  mills  would 
be  inactive  did  all  cease  wearing  silk.  Pro- 
duction aims  at  and  depends  upon  consumption. 
Wealth  is  produced  that  people  may  use  it. 
In  any  rational  discussion  of  income  these  facts 
must  be  borne  constantly  in  mind — the  passive 
character  of  resources  and  tools;  the  active 
character  of  effort;  the  social  nature  of  all 
three  factors;  the  importance  of  co-operation; 
and  the  finality  of  consumption. 

For  each  portion  of  wealth  produced,  some 
human  effort  must  be,  or  must  have  been  ex- 
pended. Under  the  old  handicraft  productive 
system,  the  worker  with  his  hammer,  or  needle, 
or  shuttle,  or  saw,  did  the  work  directly  upon 
the  thing  which  he  made.  Under  the  present 
system  of  production,  nails,  buttons,  bolts, 
candles,  socks,  and  steel  rails  are  made  by 
machines,  but  these  machines  were  made  by 
men,  assisted  by  other  machines  made  by  other 
men.  All  wealth  represents,  directly,  or  in- 
directly, some  portion  of  crystallized  labor. 
Handicraft  labor  was  crystallized  directly. 
Factory  labor  is  crystallized  indirectly.  Yet 
the  result  is  the  same. 

The  vast  output  of  present-day  industry  is 
due,  primarily,  to  co-operation.  Resources  and 
tools  have  existed  for  ages,  but  it  is  only  during 


196  SOCIAL  SANITY 

the  last  century  that  men  learned  the  true 
value  of  co-operative  or  social  tools.  Let  us 
say  that  under  the  old  system  one  hundred 
shoemakers,  each  working  individually,  could 
produce  one  hundred  pairs  of  shoes  in  a  day. 
At  the  present  time,  forty  of  these  men  are 
engaged  in  making  machines  with  the  aid  of 
which  ten  shoemakers  can  turn  out  a  hundred 
pairs  of  shoes  in  a  day.  The  other  men  are 
absorbed  into  some  new  industry,  or,  if  they 
cannot  adapt  themselves  they  join  the  ranks 
of  the  casually  employed.  For  the  time  being 
hardship  results.  In  the  end,  the  number  of 
labor  hours  required  to  make  a  pair  of  shoes 
is  reduced  to  a  fraction  of  its  former  amount. 
The  farmer  of  the  eighteenth  century  cut  his 
grain  with  a  scythe  and  thrashed  it  with  a  flail. 
Had  he  possessed  a  reaper  and  binder  and  a 
steam  thrasher,  he  would  have  produced  twenty 
times  as  much  grain  with  the  same  expenditure 
of  effort.  The  tools  of  the  old-time  society 
were  individual,  hand  tools, — hammers,  hoes, 
mattocks,  hand  looms,  chisels,  saws.  All  could 
be  owned  by  the  worker.  All  were  light  and 
easy  to  handle.  The  tools  of  modern  industry 
— the  tools  with  which  the  men  of  the  nineteenth 
century  broadened  their  kingdom — are  social 
tools, — steam  shovels,  railroads,  carpet  fac- 
tories, department  stores,  banks,  steel  mills. 
No  one  man  can  use  such  tools.  They  are 
essentially  dependent  on  co-operative  activity. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       197 

Neither  can  the  worker  own  his  tools;  he  must 
use  the  tools  owned  by  some  other  person  or 
by  all  of  the  workers,  co-operatively. 

The  wonders  of  modern  efficiency,  the  fruits 
of  industry,  cannot  be  expressed  in  figures  or 
words,  yet  some  idea  of  modern  productiveness 
may  be  gained  by  examining  these  statistics 
of  production  issued  by  the  Federal  Govern- 
ment. During  1911,  the  production  of  agricul- 
tural crops  was : —  * 

Bushels 

Corn    2,531,488,000 

Wheat  621,338,000 

Oats 922,298,000 

Barley 160,240,000 

Rye    33,119,000 

Buckwheat   17,549,000 

Potatoes  292,737,000 

Tons 
Hay   47,444,000 

Bales 
Cotton 11,965,000 

Similar  statistics  for  the  manufacturing  indus- 
tries show  the  total  value  of  the  products  in 
1909  to  have  been : —  f 

*  "  Agriculture  in  the  United  States,"  Department  of  Commerce 
and  Labor,  Washington,  D.  C,  1910.     P.  1. 

f  "  Statistics  of  Manufactures,"  Department  of  Commerce  and 
Labor,  Washington,  D.  C,  1910.    P.  8. 


198  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Value  of  Products 

All  industries    $20,672,052,000 

Slaughtering  and  meat  packing    1,370,568,000 

Foundry  and  machine-shop 
products    1,228,475,000 

Lumber  and  timber  products     1,156,129,000 

Iron  and  steel,  steelworks,  and 
rolling  mills 985,723,000 

Flour-mill  and  grist-mill  prod- 
ucts            883,584,000 

Printing  and  publishing 737,876,000 

Cotton  goods,  including  cotton 
small  wares  628,392,000 

Clothing,  men's,  including 
shirts 568,077,000 

Boots  and  shoes,  including  cut 

stock  and  findings  512,798,000 

Woolen,     worsted,     and     felt 

goods,  and  wool  mats 435,979,000 

Tobacco  manufactures 416,695,000 

Cars  and  general  shop  con- 
struction, and  repairs  by 
steam-railroad   companies . .        405,601,000 

Bread  and  other  bakery  prod- 
ucts            396,865,000 

Iron  and  steel,  blast  furnaces       391,429,000 

Clothing,  women's  384,752,000 

Smelting  and  refining,  copper       378,806,000 

Liquors,  malt 374,730,000 

Leather,  tanned,  curried,  and 
finished  327,874,000 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       199 

Value  of  Products 

Sugar  and  molasses,  not  in- 
cluding beet  sugar $279,249,000 

Butter,  cheese,  and  condensed 
milk  274,558,000 

Such  are  the  fruits  of  industry  expressed  in 
general  terms.  The  totals  are  far  too  stupen- 
dous for  the  mind  to  grasp;  nor  is  it  neces- 
sary or  desirable  that  the  mind  should  grasp 
them.  The  significant  question — the  only  ques- 
tion of  real  importance — is,  ''  What  happens  to 
this  wealth?  "  Does  it  go  to  the  producers — 
the  motive  power  to  which  it  owes  its  being? 

There  are,  strictly  speaking,  no  classes  in 
the  United  States.  That  is,  there  are  no  hard 
and  fast  caste  lines  within  which  men  are  com- 
pelled to  move.  Yet  from  the  standpoint  of 
industry  and  income,  there  are  two  classes — 
those  who  work  and  those  who  do  not.  He 
who  labors  expends  his  effort  in  a  manner 
intended  to  create  something  that  will  supply 
his  wants  or  the  wants  of  his  fellows.  The 
idler  makes  no  such  use  of  his  faculties.  Both 
classes  receive  enough  to  sustain  life.  Since 
wealth  depends  upon  industry,  and  since  the 
vitalizing  element  in  industry  is  labor,  it  would 
seem  that  in  the  division  of  the  fruits  of  in- 
dustry those  who  labored  should  receive  the 
lion's  share  of  the  income  and  of  the  pleasures 
of  life,  while  those  who  idled  should  receive 


200  SOCIAL  SANITY 

almshouse  fare, — the  bare  necessaries  of  living. 

Anomalous  though  it  may  appear,  no  such 
relation  exists  between  the  lives  of  those  who 
labor  and  of  those  who  idle.  It  is  not  true, 
in  American  society,  that  luxury,  ease,  satis- 
faction, and  enjoyment  attend  on  the  lives  of 
the  workers,  while  hardships  and  privation 
await  the  idlers.  No  longer  is  the  proverb 
held, — '*  He  who  will  not  work,  neither  shall 
he  eat."  Indeed  sometimes  the  exact  reverse 
holds  true.  He  who  never  worked  eats  abun- 
dantly of  the  choicest  fruits  of  the  land. 

A  man  recently  died  in  the  prime  of  life. 
To  be  sure,  he  died  a  gallant  death,  yet  never 
during  his  life  had  he  been  a  worker.  Behind 
him  he  left  a  son  to  whom  there  attached,  of 
the  wealth  which  his  father  had  helped  in  no 
way  to  create,  three  million  dollars.  When  this 
boy  comes  of  age,  three  millions  will  go  un- 
conditionally to  him.  If  he  had  earned  five 
dollars  every  working  day  in  the  year  since 
the  time  when  Jesus  taught  in  Galilee,  he  would 
not  have  earned  so  much  as  three  millions  of 
dollars,  yet  at  the  age  of  twenty-one  this  is 
his, — his  without  effort,  or  privation,  or  pain. 

The  thing  which  he  has  is  wealth,  not  dol- 
lars. Perchance  he  may  own  land,  bonds, 
stocks,  mortgages,  or  some  other  form  of  in- 
vestment. Should  he  wish  to  convert  this  three 
millions  into  dollars,  he  might  do  so,  but  he  has 
no  such  thought,  because  the  dollars  would  be 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       201 

idle,  whereas  the  bonds  and  mortgages  bring 
interest.  If  the  current  rate  be  paid — five  per 
cent — then  three  millions  will  return  each  year 
to  their  owner  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
dollars  of  income.  He  may  live  in  St.  Louis 
or  in  Shanghai,  yet  this  income  pursues  him. 
It  is  his  because  he  holds  the  titles  to  three 
millions  of  wealth. 

Even  the  three  millions  may  increase.  If  a 
part  of  it  be  invested  in  land,  and  the  demand 
for  the  land  grows  greater,  the  value  of  the 
land  rises,  and  this  lad,  come  of  age,  may  find 
four  or  even  five  millions  where  his  father  left 
him  but  three,  because  of  the  increased  value 
of  the  properties  which  he  holds. 

From  whence  is  this  income  and  this  in- 
creased value  derived?  Truly  it  must  be  from 
those  who  labor!  There  is  no  other  source 
of  wealth. 

Suppose  the  bonds  which  are  held  in  trust 
for  this  boy  be  those  of  a  railroad  company. 
Each  year  they  pay  him  five  dollars  for  each 
one  hundred  dollars  of  bonds  which  he  holds. 
This  five  dollars  is  the  product  of  labor.  From 
the  meanest  track  walker  up  to  the  president 
of  the  system,  this  railroad  has  been,  through- 
out the  year,  a  great  hive  of  industry.  These 
men  have  worried,  fretted,  striven,  sweated,  and 
died  that  the  railroad  might  perform  its  service 
successfully.  This  labor  has  its  reward  in  the 
success  of  the  road,  and  a  part  of  the  success 


202  SOCIAL  SANITY 

— the  earnings — is  paid  to  the  bond-holders  in 
the  form  of  interest.  This  lad's  bonds  earn 
that  kind  of  interest.  If  all  men  on  the  railroad 
stopped  working,  there  would  be  no  interest 
to  pay.  It  is  because  tens  of  thousands  of  men 
have  been  working  on  the  railroad  that  the  bond- 
holder realizes  an  income.  All  income  from 
stocks  and  bonds  is  similarly  derived.  A  num- 
ber of  workers  create  wealth,  a  part  of  which  is 
turned  over  to  the  stock  and  bond-holders,  be- 
cause they  hold  title  to  the  stocks  and  bonds. 

The  increase  in  the  value  of  the  land  which 
this  boy  holds  is  due  to  a  like  cause.  Men 
have  organized  business,  built  buildings,  paved 
streets,  attracted  commerce,  developed  trans- 
portation, and  in  all  of  the  surrounding  dis- 
tricts the  value  of  land  has  increased  because 
the  locality  is  more  desirable  as  a  place  in 
which  to  do  business.  The  increased  land  value 
is  due  to  labor.  Yet  since  this  lad  has  never 
labored,  the  increase  must  be,  as  indeed  it  is, 
due  to  the  labor  of  others.  They  expend  effort. 
He  receives  a  part  of  the  product  of  that  effort. 

Throughout  his  life,  this  boy  may  be  an 
idler.  He  may  never  raise  a  finger  to  do  aught 
beside  hunt,  court,  laugh,  play,  travel,  and 
spend.  Yet  he  is  destined,  so  long  as  his  prin- 
ciple remains  intact,  to  receive  an  income  of 
at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars 
each  year. 

Travel  to  Newport;  spend  days  and  nights 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       203 

in  the  great  hotels  of  New  York  and  Chicago; 
journey  on  expensive  ocean  liners;  listen  to  the 
talk  at  social  functions;  and  you  will  find  that 
this  lad  is  a  rule,  and  not  an  exception.  A 
whole  section  of  the  American  population  lives 
in  idleness — lives  on  income.  The  apartment 
hotels  are  thronged  with  idle  men  and  women 
who,  from  the  day  of  their  birth  to  the  day  of 
their  death,  contribute  in  no  way  to  the  labor 
of  the  community.  True,  the  class  is  small. 
True,  it  is  philanthropic.  True,  it  is  less  than 
in  Europe.  Yet  the  class  is  there — spenders 
who  do  not  labor,  living  lives  of  luxurious  ease. 

How  then  do  the  workers  live?  They  pro- 
duce the  wealth.  Are  they  likewise  children 
of  ease? 

Some  of  them  are.  The  successful  managers, 
the  superintendents,  buyers,  sellers,  heads  of 
departments,  foremen,  and  the  like  live  well. 
While  they  do  not  come  into  direct  contact  with 
the  processes  of  industry — neither  shifting  the 
levers,  hammering  the  iron,  twisting  the 
threads,  picking  the  coal,  drilling  the  holes,  nor 
shaping  the  castings — they  perform  a  function 
of  rare  value  when  they  bring  together  the 
men  necessary  to  carry  on  their  activities  and 
direct  them  at  their  work.  Such  men  are  well 
paid. 

They  form,  however,  but  a  small  percentage 
of  the  total  number  of  workers.  In  all  of  the 
manufacturing  industries  of  the  United  States, 


204  SOCIAL  SANITY 

for  example,  7,678,578  persons  are  employed, 
of  wliom  six  in  each  hundred  are  proprietors 
and  officials,  eight  are  clerks,  and  eighty-six 
are  wage-earners.  Thus  the  industrial  system 
has  evolved  to  a  point  where  more  than  four 
out  of  five  of  those  engaged  in  its  processes 
are  wage-earners. 

Some  of  those  who  come  into  direct  contact 
with  the  productive  processes  are  also  well 
paid.  The  skilled  railroad  men,  steel  workers, 
and  employees  in  the  building  trades  receive 
good  incomes.  Yet  this  group  is  also  a  com- 
paratively small  one.  Perhaps  one  wage- 
earner  in  ten,  engaged  in  American  industry, 
has  what  might  be  called  a  skilled  occupation.* 
The  great  majority  of  those  engaged  in  Amer- 
ican industry  do  work  which  is  semi-skilled  or 
unskilled  work — work  typifying  monotony  and 
exhaustion — and  receive  for  it  a  wage  which 
barely  enables  them  to  live. 

Consider  the  railroad  employees  again : —  t 

Class  Average  Daily  Wage 

General  officers $13.27 

Other  officers 6.22 

General  office  clerks 2.40 

Station  agents    2.12 

Other  station  men 1.84 

Engine-men   4.55 

♦  "  Wages  in  the  United  States,"  Scott  Nearing.  New  York : 
Macmilliau  Co.,  1911.     Chapter  IX, 

f  "  Statistics  of  Railways  in  the  United  States."  Government 
Printing  Office,  Washington,  1912.     P.  38. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       205 

Class                  Average  Daily  Wage 

Firemen    $2.74 

Conductors 3.91 

Other  trainmen 2.69 

Machinists   3.08 

Carpenters 2.51 

Other  shopmen  2.18 

Section  foremen 1.99 

Other  trackmen 1.47 

Switch     tenders,      crossing 

tenders,  and  watchmen . . .  1.69 
Telegraph  operators  and  dis- 
patchers      2.33 

Employees — account  floating 

equipment 2.22 

All    other    employees    and 

laborers   2.01 

Some  of  the  railroad  positions  are  very  well 
paid,  yet  in  these  positions  are  a  fraction  of 
one  per  cent  of  the  total  number  of  employees. 
The  skilled  men, — conductors,  engine-men,  and 
the  like, — receive  good  wages,  but  the  vast  ma- 
jority of  railway  employees  receive  wages 
which  are  ludicrously  small. 

Take  the  case  of  the  employees  in  the  iron 
and  steel  industry.  An  extended  investigation 
into  the  wages  paid  to  workers  in  the  industry 
shows  results  very  similar  to  those  already  cited 
for  the  railroad  industry. 

''  Of  the  total  of  172,706  employees,  13,868, 
or  8.03  per  cent,  earned  less  than  14  cents  per 


206  SOCIAL  SANITY 

hour,  20,527,  or  11.89  per  cent,  earned  14  and 
under  16  cents,  and  51,417,  or  29.77  per  cent, 
earned  16  and  under  18  cents.  Thus  85,812, 
or  49.69  per  cent  of  all  the  employees,  received 
less  than  18  cents  per  hour.  Those  earning 
18  and  under  25  cents  per  hour  numbered  46,- 
132,  or  26.71  per  cent,  while  40,762,  or  23.61 
per  cent,  earned  25  cents  and  over.  A  few 
very  highly  skilled  employees  received  $1.25 
per  hour ;  and  those  receiving  50  cents  and  over 
per  hour  numbered  4,403,  or  2.55  per  cent  of 
all  employees."  * 

''  Similar  evidence  is  furnished  by  the  state 
bureaus  of  labor.  While  these  facts  are  often 
unreliable,  and  while  most  of  the  states  do  not 
furnish  facts  at  all,  the  conformity  of  state 
figures  with  those  already  cited  is  remarkable.! 
When  allowance  is  made  for  unemployment,! 
it  is  probable  that  nine-tenths  of  the  male  work- 
ers in  American  industry  receive  less  than  $800 
a  year,  that  three-fourths  receive  less  than  $600 
a  year,  and  a  half  are  paid  less  than  $500  a 
year.§ 

Are  not  such  facts  surprising?  More  surpris- 
ing still  is  the  contrast  between  these  wages 

*  "  Summary  of  the  Wages  and  Hours  of  Labor,"  Report  on 
Conditions  of  Employment  in  the  Iron  and  Steel  Industry,  Wash- 
ington, 62d  Congress,  2d  Session,  Senate  Document  301,  1913. 
P.  10. 

f"  Wages  in  the  United  States,"  Scott  Nearing.  New  York: 
The  Macmillan  Co.,  1911.    Pp.  210-212. 

X  Ibid. ,  Chapter  X. 

%  Ibid.,  p.  214. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       207 

and  the  amount  which  is  sufficient  to  buy  a 
living.  On  Manhattan  Island,  the  exhaustive 
investigation  made  in  1907-8  permitted  Dr. 
Chapin  to  conclude  that,  "  an  income  of  $900 
or  over  probably  permits  the  maintenance  of  a 
normal  standard  at  least,  so  far  as  the  physical 
man  is  concerned.  Whether  an  income  between 
$800  and  $900  can  be  made  to  suffice  is  a  ques- 
tion to  which  our  data  does  not  warrant  a  dog- 
matic answer."  *  At  the  same  time  the  Federal 
Government  issued  a  careful  study  in  which  the 
authors  decide  that  in  Fall  River,  Mass.,  ''  the 
total  cost  of  the  fair  standard  for  the  English, 
Irish,  and  Canadian-French  family  is  $731.99 
and  for  the  Portuguese,  Polish,  and  Italian 
family  it  is  $690.52."  f  In  small  Georgia  and 
South  Carolina  mill  towns,  "  The  father  must 
earn  $600.74  in  order  to  support  himself  "  ac- 
cording to  a  standard  which  *'  will  enable  him 
to  furnish  them  good  nourishing  food  and  suffi- 
cient plain  clothing.  He  can  send  his  children 
to  school.  Unless  a  prolonged  or  serious  illness 
befall  the  family,  he  can  pay  for  medical  atten- 
tion. If  a  death  should  occur,  insurance  will 
meet  the  expense.  He  can  provide  some  simple 
recreation  for  his  family,  the  cost  not  to  be  over 


*"The  Standard  of  Living,"  R.  C.  Chapin.  New  York: 
Charities  Publication  Committee,  1909.     Pp.  245-246. 

\ ' '  Report  on  Condition  of  Women  and  Child  Wage  Earners 
in  the  United  States,"  Vol.  XVI,  "  Family  Budgets."  Govern- 
ment Printing  Oflace,  Washington,  1911.     P.  245. 


208  SOCIAL  SANITY 

$15.60  for  tlie  year.  If  this  cotton-mill  father 
is  given  employment  three  hundred  days  out  of 
the  year  he  must  earn  $2  per  day  to  maintain 
this  standard.  As  the  children  grow  older  and 
the  family  increase  in  size,  the  cost  of  living 
will  naturally  increase.  The  father  must  either 
earn  more  himself  or  be  assisted  by  his  young 
children."  * 

These  statements  relate  to  a  man,  wife,  and 
three  children  under  fourteen.  If  they  are 
true,  and  there  appears  to  be  no  good  reason 
to  doubt  their  accuracy,  a  large  proportion  of 
the  people  who  are  carrying  forward  the  pro- 
ductive processes  of  the  United  States  are  not 
receiving  a  living  wage.  These  are  the  laborers 
—these  the  people  upon  whose  activity  industry 
depends — these  the  vine  growers  and  the  gar- 
deners, who  have  tended  and  watched  that  the 
vineyards  of  industry  might  be  brought  to  per- 
fection. These  are  they  who  labor,  toil,  spin, 
yet  Lazarus,  in  all  of  his  wretchedness,  was  not 
less  fittingly  arrayed  than  they.  Meanwhile,  be- 
hold. Dives — he  who  does  not  work — fattens  on 
the  choicest  fruits  of  the  industrial  system. 

Meanwhile,  the  school  cries  out  for  efficiency; 
the  church  preaches  industry;  the  rostrum 
gloats  over  prosperity.  Efficiency — is  labor; 
industry — is  effort;  and  prosperity, — after 
these  have  become  efficient,  applying  themselves 

•Supra,  pp.  152-153. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       209 

arduously  to  the  tasks,  another  who  has  never 
labored,  snatches  the  prosperity  from  them. 

It  is  recorded  of  a  good  dame — one  Mother 
Hubbard — that  she  went  to  the  cupboard  to  get 
her  poor  dog  a  bone,  but  when  she  got  there, 
the  cupboard  was  bare,  and  so  of  course  the 
poor  brute  went  hungry.  How  about  Mother 
Hubbard,  though?  If  the  cupboard  was  bare, 
perhaps  she  went  hungry  too.  Even  the  best 
intentioned  philanthropy  does  not  supply  the 
larder. 

Turn  for  a  moment  to  the  little  baby  who 
came  into  a  three-million-dollar  fortune  on  the 
day  he  was  born.  Each  year  one  hundred  and 
fifty  thousand  dollars  came  to  him.  One  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  is  three  hundred  times 
five  hundred.  This  child,  who  has  never  lifted 
his  hand,  except  to  play,  baby  fashion,  has  now 
an  income  equal  to  that  of  three  hundred  men 
at  five  hundred  dollars  each  a  year. 

Truly,  it  is  strange.  Anon,  one  wonders  how 
such  things  may  be.  The  idler,  well  supplied; 
the  worker  with  a  bare  pittance.  One  man 
secure  in  a  life  without  labor ;  another  assured 
of  a  life  of  labor  without  security. 

The  fruits  of  industry  are  marvelous  in  the 
mass.  Yet  they  cannot  insure  prosperity  unless 
they  are  divided  among  those  who  need  them. 
A  nation  may  have  an  economic  surplus,  and 
yet  not  be  a  prosperous  nation.  Since  welfare 
is  the  measure  of  economic  success,  the  indi- 


210  SOCIAL  SANITY 

vidual  as  well  as  the  nation  must  share  in  real 
prosperity.  The  United  States  is  immensely 
wealthy;  great  quantities  of  additional  wealth 
are  produced  each  year;  and  capital  is  being 
continually  augmented,  and  thus  the  possibili- 
ties of  producing  more  wealth  are  increasing. 
But  it  is  not  enough  to  state  that  the  country 
is  rich.  What  becomes  of  those  riches?  In 
"  Hard  Times,"  Mr.  McChoakumchild,  the 
schoolmaster,  says: 

*'  Now  this  schoolroom  is  a  nation.  And  in 
this  nation  there  are  fifty  millions  of  money. 
Isn't  this  a  prosperous  nation?  Girl  number 
twenty,  isn't  this  a  prosperous  nation  and  ain't 
you  in  a  thriving  state  ?  ' ' 

And  in  telling  the  story  Dickens  makes  girl 
number  twenty,  the  daughter  of  a  circus  clown, 
say  that  she  doesn't  know  whether  it  is  a  pros- 
perous nation  or  not  and  whether  she  is  in  a 
thriving  state  or  not,  unless  she  knows  who  has 
the  money  and  whether  any  of  it  is  hers. 

Is  America  prosperous?  Is  it  in  a  thriving 
state?    Hardly! 

True,  the  coffers  of  some  are  overflowing, 
but  they  are  overflowing  with  the  portion  of 
many  who  are  plunged  in  the  depths  of  adver- 
sity— the  denizens  of  our  jails,  our  workhouses, 
our  houses  of  prostitution,  our  slums,  and  our 
sweat  shops,  unprosperous,  unlovely,  degraded 
in  the  midst  of  industrial  prosperity  and  com- 
mercial glory. 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       211 

The  fruits,  of  industry  go  not  to  the  indus- 
trious, but  to  the  fortunate.  He  who  labors 
receives  not,  for  all  of  his  working,  while  the 
idle  man  and  the  idle  woman,  holding  titles  to 
capital  or  to  land,  reap  rich  harvests  of  wealth, 
and  leisure.  We,  the  well-housed,  may  be  con- 
tent with  our  comfort  and  security,  with  our 
prosperous  condition  and  our  thriving  state; 
we  may  boast  of  our  national  industry  and  pros- 
perity; we  may  preach  and  condemn  and  punish 
from  behind  our  bulwarks  of  laws  and  consti- 
tutions and  institutions;  but  until  the  unnatural 
sloughs  of  adversity  are  made  dry  by  the  leveled 
mountains  of  unearned  prosperity,  the  nation 
will  never  be  truly  prosperous. 

Finally,  is  this  sanity?  Can  anyone  suppose 
that  when  the  workers — the  producers  of  wealth 
— realize  the  extent  to  which  their  products 
are  being  absorbed  by  the  drones,  they  will 
tolerate  the  continuance  of  such  conditions? 
Then,  whence  will  come  the  incentive  to  addi- 
tional effort;  when  additional  effort  means  ad- 
ditional w^ealth  to  the  unemployed  well-to-do? 
Why  cry,  '^  Peace,  peace,"  when  there  is  no 
peace  ? 

The  life  stream  of  civilization  has  flowed 
abundantly  to  this  day;  applied  science,  earnest 
effort,  painstaking,  soul-racking  activity  have 
built  up  man's  kingdom;  at  the  touch  of  the 
human  hand,  vast  machines  convert  the  gifts 
of  nature  into  forms  which  satisfy  man's  de- 


212  SOCIAL  SANITY 

sires;  what  an  opportunity  for  life,  in  its  rich- 
est abundance!  What  a  glorious  harvest  of 
leisure,  growth,  achievement!  What  additions 
to  the  grandeur  of  the  kingdom  of  man ! 

Alas!  Between  the  production  of  wealth  and 
its  use,  between  the  expenditure  of  effort  and 
the  receipt  of  income  stretch  the  traditions  of 
individual  ownership,  which  take  from  him  who 
produces  and  give  to  him  who  holds  titles  to 
property.  How  wondrously  have  men  learned 
to  create  wealth,  in  myriad  forms,  how  stupidly 
do  they  blunder  in  the  sharing  of  the  wealth 
produced. 

Sanity!  Sanity!  Sanity  imperatively  de- 
mands fairness  in  distributing  the  fruits  of  in- 
dustry. After  ages  of  experimentation  human 
society  has  found  that  finally  the  only  sane  rule 
of  conduct  in  dealings  between  man  and  man 
is  the  rule  of  equity,  of  justice,  of  fairness,  of 
doing  to  that  other  as  you  would  have  him  do 
to  you. 

Stripped  of  its  incidental  elements,  apart 
from  its  traditions  and  its  glamor,  the  present 
scheme  for  dividing  the  fruits  of  industry  ap- 
pears in  its  bald  unjustness.  Lay  aside  your 
preconceived  ideas  of  property  and  property 
rights,  look  sanely,  carefully  into  the  matter 
from  the  eyrie  of  intellectual  honesty,  and  find, 
if  you  can,  a  justification  for  giving  to  him  that 
labors  a  pittance;  to  him  that  idles  a  compe- 
tence.   In  that  direction  social  sanity  does  not 


THE  FRUITS  OF  INDUSTRY       213 

lie.  Inequality  in  distributing  the  fruits  of  in- 
dustry is  the  broad  way  that  has  led  many 
nations  to  destruction.  The  path  to  social  san- 
ity lies  along  a  narrow  way,  through  a  straight 
gate,  over  which  is  written  the  saying — * '  Social 
Justice." 


THE  SPIEIT  OP  EEVOLT 

The  genus  of  modern  life,  stripped  of  its 
gay  finery,  appears  as  an  exploiter  of  the  many, 
and  a  pauperizer  of  the  few.  Man  has  estab- 
lished his  kingdom  in  wondrous  guise.  Armed 
with  that  keen  weapon,  science,  he  has  bent  the 
powers  of  nature  to  his  services  after  a  manner 
wholly  past  the  beUef  of  earlier  ages.  No 
longer  subject  to  pestilence  and  famine,  freed 
from  the  fear  of  beasts,  overcoming  the  sources 
of  conflict  between  man  and  man,  civilization 
has  laid  down  a  basis  for  sane  living  and  social 
welfare. 

Here  are  clothing  for  the  naked,  food  for  the 
hungry,  houses  for  the  shelterless,  books  for 
the  unlearned.  Here  then  is  unusual  prosperity 
and  sane  living?  Alas!  no.  The  naked  do 
not  always  receive  the  clothing;  the  food  goes 
to  him  who  is  surfeited;  houses  are  built  for 
those  who  already  enjoy  shelter;  and  the  books 
with  uncut  leaves  lie  on  the  shelves  of  the  over- 
fed. Not  always,  it  is  true,  but  often  society 
fails  to  establish  a  sane  relation  between  the 
things  a  man  needs  and  the  things  he  receives. 

214 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  215 

The  fruits  of  industry  are  not  wisely  appor- 
tioned. The  material  blessings  of  life  follow 
bank  accounts,  when  they  should  follow  human 
needs.  It  is  this  fact  which  leads  to  the  spirit 
of  revolt, — to  the  feeling  that  the  method  of 
adjusting  life  to  men  and  women  might  be  rad- 
ically improved  to  the  advantage  of  everyone. 

There  is,  in  each  breast,  a  potential  spirit 
of  revolt,  because  each  human  being  recognizes 
some  code  of  morality.  Cross  the  threshold 
of  that  moral  temple,  and  revolt  follows.  Each 
man  recognizes  and  accepts  some  standard  of 
justice,  of  truth,  of  spiritual  belief.  It  is  his 
shibboleth,  his  doctrine,  his  creed.  Violate  that 
creed  at  your  peril ! 

Whatever  the  origin  of  moral  ideas,  whatever 
the  source  of  human  beliefs,  the  fact  remains 
that  from  the  lowest  villain  that  ever  swung 
from  the  gallows  to  the  worthiest  saint  that  died 
for  a  faith,  this  fact  holds  true, — each  sets  a 
standard  for  which  he  will  fight  either  with 
the  tools  of  physical  warfare,  or  with  that  ter- 
rible weapon,  non-resistance.  How  plainly  does 
this  fact  stand  out  in  all  of  the  biography,  all 
of  the  personal  incident  which  the  world 
records ! 

Further  back  than  human  history,  the  spirit 
of  revolt  extends.  Snatch  a  morsel  of  food 
from  the  beasts,  threaten  the  young  of  any 
animal  mother  and  bide  the  issue !  The  animal 
world  also  has  a  code  to  which  it  adheres  with 


216  SOCIAL  SANITY 

rigorous  exactitude.  It  will  enjoy  the  food 
which  it  has  taken.  The  female  will  protect 
her  offspring.  In  the  defense  of  either  of  these 
causes,  the  beast  lays  down  its  life. 

Among  men  the  same  brute  instincts  prevail. 
The  man  who  goes  hungry  for  three  days  will 
lie;  hungry  for  three  days  more  he  will  steal; 
hungry  for  three  more  he  will  commit  murder. 
Take  away  a  man's  food,  deprive  him  of  the 
physical  necessities  of  life,  and  he  becomes  dan- 
gerous. The  speeding  up  of  prices  without  any 
corresponding  increase  in  wages,  of  which  the 
past  twenty  years  has  been  so  painfully  con- 
scious, resolves  itself  finally  into  a  problem  of 
short  food  supply  for  many  families.  Why 
should  they  not  revolt? 

The  human  mother,  sacrificing,  striving  for 
the  welfare  of  her  child,  is  also  displaying  a 
primitive  instinct.  Like  the  beasts  she  will  die, 
gladly,  for  her  offspring. 

There  is,  among  the  more  advanced  races 
of  mankind,  another  cause  of  revolt, — an  ac- 
quired characteristic,  perhaps.  The  fight  for 
food,  the  defense  of  offspring,  are  universal 
traits.  The  spirit  of  justice,  of  equity,  of  fair 
play,  are  largely  human  attributes.  Further- 
more, the  higher  men  rise  in  the  scale  of  human 
development,  the  keener  becomes  their  sense  of 
fairness,  until  in  emotionaUsts  like  Amos  and 
Savonarola;  or  in  thinkers  like  John  Stuart 
Mill,    Herbert    Spencer,    Euskin,    or   William 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  217 

Morris,  the  ideals  of  equitableness  between  man 
and  man  are  set  high  and  any  violation  of  this 
ideal  is  a  cause  for  drastic  reaction. 

When  Horatius,  wounded,  and  wearied  with 
hard  fighting,  turned  from  his  valiant  defense 
of  the  bridge,  all  armed  as  he  was,  and  plunged 
into  the  yellow  Tiber, 

*'  No  sound  of  joy  or  sorrow, 

Was  heard  from  either  bank, 
But  friends  and  foes  in  dumb  surprise, 
With  parted  lips  and  straining  eyes, 

Stood  gazing  where  he  sank; 
And  when  above  the  surges 

They  saw  his  crest  appear. 
All  Rome  sent  forth  a  rapturous  cry. 
And  even  the  banks  of  Tuscany 

Could  scarce  forbear  to  cheer,'* 

While  Horatius  was  manfully  battling  with 
the  swollen  current,  Macaulay  makes  the  traitor 
Sextus  say: — 

^'  Will  not  the  villain  drown? 

But  for  this  stay,  ere  close  of  day, 
We  should  have  sacked  the  town.'* 

But  the  leader  of  the  opposing  forces,  whose 
plans  Horatius  had  thwarted,  a  man  of  totally 
different  fiber,  retorts : — 


218  SOCIAL  SANITY 

^' '  Heaven  help  him,'  quoth  Lars  Porseno}, 
'  And  bring  him  safe  to  shore, 
For  such  a  gallant  feat  at  arms. 
Was  never  seen  before!  '  " 

Lars  Porsena  had  the  spirit  of  fair  play  de- 
veloped to  so  high  a  degree  that  he  enjoyed 
seeing  a  man,  even  though  an  enemy,  do  a  gal- 
lant deed.  If  Lars  Porsena  could  have  sat  on 
the  bleachers  of  a  baseball  field,  cheering  the 
home  team  on  to  victory,  he  would  have  ap- 
plauded with  the  lustiest  when  the  visitors  en- 
gineered a  brilliant  double  steal  or  fielded  a 
hard  fly. 

The  American  prides  himself  on  nothing  more 
highly  than  the  fact  that  he  has  the  spirit  of 
sport,  of  fair  play,  of  joy  over  a  well-earned 
victory,  whether  of  friend  or  enemy.  Even 
children  fail  to  see  any  fun  in  a  one-sided,  un- 
fairly played  game. 

Someone  has  described  a  typical  Western 
farmer  as  a  man  who  would  gladly  give  a  brace 
of  steers  to  anyone  who  was  down  on  his  luck, 
and  never  so  much  as  hope  for  a  return.  Yet, 
if  a  stray  cur,  yellow  and  mongrel,  was  adopted 
by  this  farmer  and  called  "  mine,"  a  deputy 
marshal  backed  by  a  company  of  regulars  com- 
ing to  take  the  cur,  would  find  the  farmer  well 
posted  with  his  Winchester,  ready  to  shoot  or 
to  be  shot  down  in  the  defense  of  the  dog.  Hav- 
ing rights  and  believing  in  them,  this  type  of 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  219 

man  does  not  hesitate  to  stake  his  life  on  the 
outcome.  The  "  Spirit  of  '76  "  was  a  spirit  of 
revolt  based  on  a  belief  in  "  rights,"  and  it  has 
never  been  entirely  refined  out  of  the  American 
temperament.  Perhaps  the  average  American 
would  not  set  up  his  private  judgment  against 
that  of  a  company  of  regulars,  but  he  would 
fight  for  his  own  whether  he  did  it  with  a  re- 
peater, or  a  law  brief.  Furthermore  if  he  found 
that  some  small  dog  in  his  immediate  neighbor- 
hood not  his  own  was  being  denied  a  ''  square 
deal,"  he  might  put  in  a  word  for  him  too. 

It  has  been  written  that  the  minority  have 
no  rights  which  the  majority  is  bound  to  re- 
spect. Yet,  if  the  minority  be  a  helpless  one, 
it  will  receive  more  than  its  share  of  justice 
from  most  Anglo-Saxons,  whose  traditions  lead 
them  to  sympathize  with  the  under-dog,  to  cheer 
him,  and  even  to  assist  him  if  occasion  demands. 

This  insistence  on  fair  play  for  the  under-dog 
is  the  saving  grace  in  many  American  institu- 
tions. Were  it  not  for  the  strongly  developed 
spirit  of  good  sport,  there  might  be  less  modern 
revolt  to  reckon  with.  The  spirit  of  sport  is 
there,  however,  and  the  kindly  feeling  for  the 
under-dog  is  there — two  things  which  dominate 
the  spirit  of  revolt. 

The  revolt  of  the  under-dog  is  no  new  thing. 
Of  course,  he  growls,  cries  out,  whines,  protests, 
strikes  back.  No  one  expects  him  to  take  a 
thrashing  without  making  a  fight  for  it — he 


220  SOCIAL  SANITY 

would  be  a  despicable  dog  if  he  did.  Strangely 
enough,  however,  in  the  great  game  of  industrial 
conflict,  others  besides  the  under-dog  are  taking 
a  hand  in  the  protest.  Even  the  dog  on  top 
snarls,  vigorously,  that  it  isn't  a  good  game — 
this  business  of  condemning  children  in  their 
cradles  to  lives  of  monotonous,  under-nourished 
ineffectiveness.  Then,  too,  the  keepers  who  take 
the  gate  receipts  at  the  great  game  are  pro- 
testing. They  are  the  beneficiaries,  to  be  sure, 
but  why  can't  they  have  a  decent  game,  even 
if  it  does  tell  a  little  on  the  cash  register?  The 
spectators,  of  course,  are  demanding  fair  play 
— they  have  always  done  that,  and  now,  even 
the  women  have  joined  the  party  of  the  mal- 
contents, insisting  upon  a  good  game,  open  to  all 
on  equal  terms.  This  demand  for  honest  deal- 
ing, this  spirit  of  revolt  against  the  old  methods 
of  carrying  on  affairs,  is  the  dominant  spirit 
in  America  to-day.  The  index  of  a  fundamen- 
tally sane  attitude  of  mind,  the  spirit  of  revolt 
has  communicated  itself  rapidly  to  all  elements 
of  the  population. 

The  spirit  of  revolt  has  developed  side  by 
side  with  the  consciousness  that  fair  play  is 
no  longer  the  rule  of  the  economic  road.  Men 
and  women  interested  in  the  growth  of  life  and 
the  maintenance  of  sanity  are  learning  that, 
under  the  industrial  conditions  which  saw  the 
nineteenth  century  out  and  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury in,  sane  living  is  impossible  for  the  great 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  221 

mass  of  the  population.    Under  this  system: — 

1.  Many  of  those  who  labor  have  neither  the 
time  nor  the  energy  to  enjoy  life  after  the  work- 
day is  over. 

2.  Welfare  is  the  lot  of  so  few — opportunity 
is  so  painfully  restricted. 

3.  Aside  from  any  nobler  aim  in  life,  such 
a  situation  does  not  even  permit  of  efficiency, 
since  those  best  fitted  to  do  certain  tasks  do 
not  necessarily  have  a  chance  to  do  them. 

4.  Most  grotesque  of  all,  society  has  per- 
fected an  automatic  device  which  takes  from 
the  producer  a  great  part  of  the  product,  leav- 
ing him  in  a  vast  number  of  cases  not  even 
a  decent  livelihood;  sets  the  laborer  to  making 
lace,  and  automobile  bodies,  when  his  children 
and  the  children  of  his  friends  need  shoes,  hats, 
dresses,  and  shirts;  and  finally  which  pours 
countless  riches  into  the  laps  of  an  idle  few. 

No  one  can  longer  doubt  that  there  are  in- 
dustrial and  social  burdens  which  press  most 
heavily  on  the  backs  which  are  least  able  to 
bear  them.  Who  can  question  the  unfairness 
of  bad  milk,  dark  rooms,  child-labor,  overwork, 
premature  death,  and  the  host  of  other  vultures 
which  prey  upon  the  common  man's  chance  of 
life?  The  exploited  has  a  clear  case  against  the 
exploiter.  The  very  clarity  of  the  issue  lends 
weight  to  the  protest  which  the  exploited  makes. 

The  real  wonder  of  wonders  is  not  the  revolt 
of  the  exploited,  but  their  failure  to  revolt. 


222  SOCIAL  SANITY 

The  man  who  leaves  his  miner's  shanty  at  day- 
break, and,  entering  the  bowels  of  the  earth, 
labors  there  in  the  darkness  and  danger,  in 
order  that  he  may  earn  five  or  six  hundred 
dollars  a  year, — a  bare  living  for  his  family, 
and  in  order  that  some  well-to-do  man  in  the 
metropolis  may  add  a  new  car  to  his  crowded 
garage  or  send  his  wife  to  the  dressmaker's  for 
a  five-hundred-dollar  gown  or  to  the  jeweler's 
for  a  gracefully  arranged  cluster  of  diamonds, 
to  Europe  as  a  pastime, — such  a  man  is  not 
likely  to  be  in  the  best  imaginable  frame  of 
mind  when  he  finds  that  his  most  earnest  efforts 
will  supply  only  the  bare  necessites  of  life  for 
his  wife  and  children,  while  they  provide  ex- 
travagant luxuries  for  someone  who  has  never 
known  a  day  of  toil.  Further,  when  hard  times 
or  sickness  come — as  they  inevitably  do — forc- 
ing the  wife  and  children  into  the  mill,  the 
contrast  becomes  even  greater.  Why  should 
he,  the  worker,  skimp  and  starve,  while  she, 
the  idler,  tells  the  divorce  court  judge  that  she 
cannot  possibly  run  her  household  under  ninety 
thousand  dollars  a  year?  Men  have  starved, — 
died  of  hunger, — ere  now  with  grim-set  faces 
and  calm  souls,  but  never  has  one  section  of 
the  population  been  satisfied  with  a  loaf  of  black 
bread,  while  another  section  gorged  itself  on 
dainty  viands,  pouring  out  choice  wine  in  liba- 
tion to  its  pleasures.  The  contrast — ^not  the 
status — cries  aloud  for  remedy. 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  223 

History  records  myriad  protests  against  this 
contrast.  The  Helots  of  Greece;  the  Roman 
slaves;  the  Plebeians;  the  Peasants  in  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  the  rabble  in  France  rose 
against  exploitation.  In  the  nineteenth  century 
the  revolutionary  movements  of  the  thirties  and 
forties,  the  labor  movement,  the  socialist  move- 
ment, and  now,  last  of  all,  the  movement  toward 
syndicalism  are  instances  of  the  same  great 
protest  against  the  unfairness  of  things  as  they 
are. 

Walter  Rauschenbusch,  bespeaking  the  spirit 
of  revolt  as  it  appears  to  the  teacher  of  religion, 
quotes  Fronde's  famous  statement,  "  The  en- 
durance of  the  inequalities  of  life  by  the  poor 
is  the  marvel  of  human  society,"  and  then 
writes, — ''  I  read  of  the  increasing  inclination 
to  use  *  direct  action  '  and  '  sabotage  '  with  a 
sinking  of  the  heart,  not  only  on  account  of  the 
immediate  damage  that  will  be  done  and  the 
spread  of  lawlessness,  but  because  of  the  harm 
it  will  do  to  the  cause  of  labor.  I  am  Christian 
enough  to  believe  that  evil  cannot  be  overcome 
with  evil  and  that  the  recoil  of  violence  will 
usually  more  than  offset  any  immediate  advan- 
tage gained  by  it.  But  I  do  not  wonder  that 
men  resort  to  physical  force.  My  wonder  is 
that  men  whose  physical  force  is  the  only  force 
they  know  how  to  handle  have  used  it  so  little. 
They  have  been  slower  to  resort  to  violence 
than  women  in  the  agitation  for  the  suffrage. 


224  SOCIAL  SANITY 

If  we  could  pick  out  a  thousand  employers  who 
in  some  way  have  been  conspicuous  for  their 
opposition  against  organized  labor,  put  them 
all  in  one  mill-town  together,  subject  them  to 
the  average  conditions  of  industrial  workers, 
leave  them  just  as  able  and  energetic  as  they 
are  now,  but  somehow  deprive  them  of  the  hope 
of  escaping  from  their  condition  and  lot,  they 
would  have  a  rampant  labor  organization  in 
running  order  inside  of  a  week,  and  the  world 
would  listen  to  an  explosion  before  a  month 
was  up.  If  they  could  not  longer  use  the  phys- 
ical force  of  constabulary,  deputy  sheriffs,  Pink- 
ertons,  and  militia,  they  would  fall  back  on 
their  own  physical  force,  and  organizers  of 
the  American  Federation  of  Labor  would 
come  in  to  counsel  steadiness  and  peaceable 
methods."  * 

The  old-time  organizations  of  workers  for 
the  most  part  seem  to  have  reached  the  zenith 
of  their  power.  They  have  improved  working 
conditions,  decreased  hours  of  labor,  regulated 
sanitation,  helped  to  eliminate  child-labor  and 
the  sweat-shops,  but  they  have  been  totally 
unable  to  secure,  even  for  most  trade  union 
members,  a  larger  share  in  the  products  of 
industry. 

During  the  last  two  decades,  prices  have  risen 
steadily,  faster  than  wages.    At  the  end  of  a 

♦"Christianizing  the  Social  Order,"  Walter  Rauschenbusch. 
New  York  :  The  MacmiUan  Co.,  1912.     Pp.  191-192. 


THE  SPIEIT  OF  REVOLT  225 

period  of  phenomenal  prosperity,  many  a 
worker  is  less  able  to  supply  himself  with  the 
necessaries  of  life  than  he  was  at  its  beginning. 
As  an  instrument  for  improving  the  conditions 
surrounding  the  lives  of  the  workers,  the  union 
has  succeeded,  but  as  a  means  for  securing  a 
more  equitable  distribution  of  the  means  of 
livelihood,  it  has  failed. 

In  recognition  of  this  failure,  the  union 
members  are  everywhere  turning  from  indirect 
to  direct  political  action — from  unionism  to 
socialism.  This  change  of  attitude  does  not 
at  all  involve  the  abandonment  of  the  union. 
Indeed,  entire  unions,  like  the  Western  Federa- 
tion of  Miners,  vote  the  socialist  ticket.  The 
change  does  involve,  however,  a  fundamen- 
tal change  in  attitude.  Instead  of  waiting  for 
the  representative  of  some  other  interest  to  do 
his  work  for  him,  the  socialist  sends  his  own 
representative  to  the  legislature. 

The  socialist  has  a  programme  which  is  much 
larger  than  that  of  the  unionist.  The  latter 
insists  upon  a  readjustment  of  working  condi- 
tions, while  the  socialist  demands  a  reorganiza- 
tion of  society — a  reorganization  which  he  pro- 
poses to  effect  through  the  use  of  the  ballot. 
Socialism,  therefore,  finds  its  logical  outcome 
in  the  formation  of  a  political  party. 

Hinted  at  by  Fourier,  Saint-Simon,  Robert 
Owen,  and  the  other  communists  of  the  early 
nineteenth  century,  restated  and  symtematized 


226  SOCIAL  SANITY 

by  Karl  Marx  and  the  host  of  co-workers  who 
have  written  and  spoken  during  the  past  forty 
years,  sociaHsm  is  now  a  factor  to  be  con- 
sidered in  any  statement  of  political  tendencies. 
In  Germany,  the  socialist  vote  is  larger  than 
that  of  any  other  party;  in  France  it  is  increas- 
ing rapidly;  in  Belgium  it  is  in  entire  control 
of  some  districts.  Even  in  the  United  States, 
it  is  doubling  with  each  presidential  election, 
while  socialist  mayors,  aldermen,  and  legisla- 
tors no  longer  excite  comment. 

Socialism  is  an  organized  protest  against  the 
present  system  of  distributing  income,  coupled 
with  an  organized  effort  to  establish  a  new  sys- 
tem, whereby  income  may  be  more  rationally 
distributed.  It  has  probably  had  more  influ- 
ence on  the  thought  of  the  masses  and  on  the 
political  tactics  of  the  ruling  parties  than  any 
other  single  movement  in  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury. 

Whether  the  syndicalist  movement  must  be 
taken  seriously,  no  man  can  yet  say.  The  rad- 
ical wing  of  the  Socialist  Party,  tired  of  the 
failure  of  their  leaders  to  reorganize  the  in- 
dustrial system  in  cases  like  that  of  Germany 
where  they  are  in  power,  propose  direct  action. 
''  Parliamentary  government,"  they  cry,  "  is 
a  failure.  The  workers  must  take  what  they 
want  by  direct  means."  These  means, — first, 
the  general  strike,  and  finally  the  literal  appro- 
priation  of   the   productive  machinery, — have 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  227 

been  advocated  freely  in  Europe,  and  the  gen- 
eral strike  has  been  used  with  telling  effect. 

Unionism,  socialism,  and  syndicalism  are  the 
three  current  channels  along  which  the  revolt 
of  the  worker  is  taking  place.  Thus  far,  these 
movements  have  been  reasonably  quiet — almost 
dignified  in  fact.  What  does  the  future  hold 
for  them? 

A  group  of  successful  young  business  men 
sat  at  lunch,  discussing  the  Lawrence  textile 
strike,  when  someone  made  this  proposal, — 
*'  Suppose  you  were  a  textile  weaver,  destined 
to  be  a  weaver  till  you  died.  You  couldn't  be- 
come a  mill-owner;  you  couldn't  earn  more  than 
a  certain  wage ;  you  would  have  to  live  as  those 
fellows  live ;  and  when  they  reached  the  age  of 
fourteen,  you  would  have  to  see  your  children 
go  into  the  mill." 

^'  Well,"  said  a  lawyer,  with  a  strong  jaw, 
' '  I  should  be  the  leading  agitator  of  the  crowd, 
and  so  would  everyone  else  who  had  red  blood 
in  his  veins." 

Every  man  at  the  table  agreed  with  the  law- 
yer. Every  man  acknowledged  fairly  that  the 
worker  must  fight  his  own  fight.  Each  one  saw 
that  protest,  if  protest  was  to  be  made,  could 
be  made  most  effectively  by  the  workers  them- 
selves. 

The  secretary  of  a  child-labor  committee 
was  organizing  a  protest  against  child-labor  in 
a  textile  district.     To  one  of  the  members  of 


228  SOCIAL  SANITY 

the  textile  union,  who  was  not  enthusiastic  over 
the  proposition,  the  secretary  said; — 

<<  Why  don't  you  take  a  more  active  part  in 
this  matter?  You  are  interested  in  protecting 
the  children,  aren't  you?  " 

To  which  the  textile  worker  made  this  crush- 
ing reply : — 

"  My  God,  man,  they're  our  children!  " 

They  were — his  children — his  flesh  and  blood, 
who  were  being  taken  from  schools  where  they 
learned  little,  and  placed  in  factories  where 
they  learned  less.  They  were  denied  higher 
education.  They  were  denied  opportunity  and 
leisure,  because  his  wage  was  the  merest  pit- 
tance. Some  may  wonder  when  the  exploited 
protest.  The  real  wonder  of  wonders  is  that 
they  do  not  revolt. 

So  patent  is  this  fact  becoming,  that  even 
the  exploiters — the  masters — are  leading  re- 
volts against  industrial  and  social  injustice. 
Tom  L.  Johnson  of  Cleveland,  a  past-master 
at  the  game  of  getting  rich,  lost  his  fortune, 
his  health,  and  finally  his  life,  in  his  struggle 
with  the  vested  interests.  Whatever  men  may 
say  or  think  of  Johnson's  methods,  no  one 
will  question  the  sincerity  of  his  intentions. 
He  entered  the  field,  made  his  big  fight 
in  a  big  way,  and  died  at  the  moment  of 
victory. 

Equally  spectacular  is  the  change  in  the  atti- 
tude of  George  W.  Perkins,  formerly  of  the 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  229 

firm  of  J.  P.  Morgan  &  Company.  Reared  in 
the  citadel  of  exploitation,  Mr.  Perkins,  who 
had  proved  himself  a  tower  of  strength  to  the 
great  financial  interests,  suddenly  left  the  finan- 
cial arena,  with  the  announcement  that  he  pro- 
posed to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  in 
disposing  of  his  fortune  for  the  betterment  of 
mankind.  The  story  is  whispered  that  Mr. 
Perkins'  machine  broke  down  in  an  East  Side 
tenement  district,  and  that,  while  it  was  being 
repaired,  Mr.  Perkins  had  an  opportunity  to 
see,  at  first  hand,  life  in  the  tenements.  He 
had  heard,  but  now  his  eyes  burned  the  facts 
into  his  soul. 

Certainly  the  most  interesting  of  the  revolt- 
ing masters  is  Joseph  Fels — a  single  taxer  and 
multimillionaire.  "  I  purpose,"  cried  Mr. 
Fels,  in  one  of  his  speeches,  "  to  use  my  for- 
tune in  overthrowing  the  damnable  system 
which  enabled  me  to  acquire  it."  Mr.  Fels 
means  it,  too. 

Patents  and  copyrights  have  been  the  chief 
source  of  Mr.  Fels'  fortune,  though  he  tells, 
with  charming  frankness,  of  his  successful  land 
speculations.  The  patent  office  has  backed  him ; 
the  tariff  has  protected  him,  yet  Mr.  Fels  is 
vigorously  opposed  to  both.  During  the  Eng- 
lish Budget  campaign,  when  the  chief  issue 
was  the  taxation  of  land  values,  Mr.  Fels  was 
financial  backer,  political  engineer,  and  stump 
speaker.    He  has  toured  the  United  States  from 


230  SOCIAL  SANITY 

coast  to  coast,  delivering  single-tax  addresses. 
No  one  who  lias  heard  his  ringing  denunciation 
of  the  present  social  system  and  his  brilliant 
pleas  for  his  panacea,  can  for  a  moment  doubt 
that  Mr.  Fels  is  in  dead  earnest. 

No  three  revolting  masters  are  better  known 
in  the  United  States,  yet,  while  their  prominence 
lends  publicity  to  their  acts,  they  are  merely 
representatives  of  a  great  movement  of  dissat- 
isfaction among  the  masters  of  capital.  Uni- 
versity endowments,  libraries,  laboratories, 
pension  funds,  and  charitable  gifts  are  all  in- 
dications of  the  spirit  of  revolt  which  is  work- 
ing among  the  very  men  who  have  profited  most 
by  the  system  of  society  against  which  they 
protest. 

If  the  revolt  of  the  masters  is  deep-seated 
and  widespread,  the  revolt  of  the  beneficiaries 
is  even  more  marked.  The  old  generation,  the 
original  captains  of  industry,  is  dying,  leaving 
the  bulk  of  its  vast  fortunes  to  heirs  who  took 
no  part  in  fortune-making.  Some  of  these  heirs, 
awakened  to  the  facts  of  life,  as  they  are, 
frankly  refuse  to  continue  the  fortune-getting 
of  their  fathers,  and  instead,  turn  their  atten- 
tion to  some  social  pursuit.  Notable  among  this 
group  is  the  heir  to  the  Rockefeller  fortune. 
Able,  public-spirited  to  a  degree,  and  deeply 
concerned  in  social  matters,  this  man  is  one 
of  the  leading  spirits  in  the  fight  against  pros- 
titution, and  against  the  forces  that  lead  toward 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  231 

prostitution,  too.  Stokes  of  New  York,  and 
Patterson  of  Chicago,  both  wealthy  by  inherit- 
ance, and  both  ardent  socialists,  are  interesting 
examples  of  the  extreme  reaction  which  is  tak- 
ing place  among  the  sons  of  the  rich  men. 
Gifford  Pinchot,  at  the  end  of  his  college  course, 
faced  the  choice  between  club  life  in  New  York 
and  Washington,  and  an  occupation.  He  chose 
an  occupation,  went  abroad,  made  himself  con- 
versant with  the  forestry  problem,  and  returned 
to  put  his  knowledge  into  practice.  Since  that 
time  he  has  been  rising  higher  and  higher  in 
public  estimation,  until  he  is  regarded  as  one 
of  the  most  useful  citizens  of  the  nation.  There 
are  certain  things  in  which  Mr.  Pinchot  believes. 
It  is  for  these  things  that  he  works.  If  the 
vested  interests  are  in  the  way  of  his  ends, 
he  says  so,  boldly.  He  has  succeeded  in  con- 
structing, for  the  United  States,  a  conservation 
policy,  which  applies  not  alone  to  forests,  but 
to  every  other  natural  resource.  While  it  is 
undoubtedly  true  that  the  rich  man's  daughter 
usually  idles  in  society,  and  the  rich  man's  son 
ordinarily  takes  up  a  profession  or  business 
career,  there  is  an  increasing  tendency  on  the 
part  of  both  sons  and  daughters  to  ask 
*'  Where?  "  and  "  Why!  "  of  their  unearned  in- 
comes. 

When  the  masters  and  the  beneficiaries  ques- 
tion, and  even  condemn,  is  it  any  wonder  that 
the  spectators  take  sides  against  a  grotesquely 


232  SOCIAL  SANITY 

unjust  system  of  wealth  distribution?  True, 
there  are  editors  who  are  purchased,  teachers 
who  are  silenced,  magazines  which  are  muzzled, 
and  lecturers  who,  serving  God  and  Mammon, 
frequently  forget  God.  On  the  whole,  however, 
the  newspapers,  magazines,  lecturers,  teachers, 
and  social  workers  are  questioning  the  validity 
of  things  as  they  are.  These  doubting 
Thomases  may  go  no  further  than  a  discussion 
of  the  implications  arising  out  of  the  increased 
cost  of  living;  they  may  decry  results  without 
seeking  for  causes;  they  may  vilify  the  trusts 
and  fail  to  suggest  any  constructive  policy ;  they 
may  sentimentalize  on  "  the  interests  "  and 
"  Wall  Street  "  without  caring  to  be  more 
specific, — the  facts  remain  none  the  less  true 
that  a  perusal  of  the  leading  newspapers  and 
magazines,  attendance  on  lectures,  the  pursuit 
of  college  courses,  talks  with  social  workers, 
and  even  church  attendance,  would  lead  the 
average  man  to  question  the  validity  of  many 
present  social  arrangements.  No  thoughtful 
man  can  pass  through,  much  less  visit,  a  city 
slum,  without  questioning.  Blatant  display 
challenges  dull  poverty  in  such  certain  tones 
that  even  the  hard  of  hearing  cannot  fail  to 
attend.  Why  should  one  man — no  demi-god — 
be  in  a  position  to  give  away  ten  millions  of 
dollars'?  Perhaps  the  most  patent  fact  of  all 
is  the  discrepancy  between  static  wages  and  a 
rising  cost  of  some  of  the  chief  necessaries  of 


THE  SPIRIT  OF  REVOLT  233 

life.  Hence  the  spectator  questions,  suggests, 
insists,  demands. 

Of  all  the  revolts,  the  most  spectacular  is  the 
revolt  of  the  women,  who,  for  ages,  have  been 
taught  to  accept  the  thing  which  is,  and  to  be 
content  with  it.  Traditionally,  the  judgment 
of  women  is  subject  to  that  of  men  in  industry, 
education,  literature,  philosophy,  and  science. 
Practically  in  all  of  these  fields  the  achieve- 
ments of  women  have  been  slight.  Yet  the 
last  two  generations  have  witnessed  a  complete 
overturning  in  the  attitude  of  women  as  a  group. 

Prior  to  that  time  a  few  scattering  women 
had  agitated  this  or  that  reform,  but  society 
still  believed  implicitly  that  the  home  was 
woman's  place  and  that  unless  some  untoward 
circumstance  called  her  from  it,  she  should  stay 
there.  In  the  transformation  of  social  life 
which  has  forced  women  out  of  the  home  into 
spheres  of  varied  usefulness,  no  factor  has  had 
a  more  potent  influence  than  the  woman's  col- 
leges. 

'*  When  I  went  to  college,"  laughed  a  middle- 
aged  woman,  "  only  freaks  registered.  We 
were  a  queer  lot — there  was  hardly  a  girl  among 
us  who  did  not  have  some  outlandish  streak 
in  her  make-up.  Now,  however,  it  seems  to  be 
quite  the  thing."  Since  it  is  quite  the  thing, 
women  are  flocking  to  colleges  by  the  tens  of 
thousands.  Some  study  professions.  Some 
take  special  courses  in  preparation  for  various 


234  SOCIAL  SANITY 

lines  of  teaching,  but  by  far  the  greater  pro- 
portion gain  from  their  college  course  a  wider 
view  and  a  spirit  of  co-operation,  which  takes 
them  far  from  the  traditional  home  of  their 
ancestors,  out  into  the  stirring  life  of  the  world. 
Such   a    student  was    Carola   Woerishoffer, 
Class  of  1907,  Bryn  Mawr,  whose  recent  tragic 
death  forced  baldly,  upon  public  attention,  the 
story  of  a  life  *  which  comes  very  near  to  typi- 
fying the  spirit  of  revolt  among  a  certain  group 
of  women.    After  receiving  her  degree,  this  girl 
went  directly  into  social  work  in  New  York,  "  to 
learn  and  to  help,"  she  said,  "  she  was  open- 
minded  and  open-hearted.    She  feared  no  one, 
she  was  insatiable  in  her  curiosity  and  her  love 
of  adventure.     She  was  full  of  passionate  en- 
thusiasm—a   fiery    patriot— a    worshiper    of 
everyone  who  did  things." 

The  descendant  of  public- spirited  parents, 
with  large  funds  at  her  command,  this  young 
woman  threw  herself  enthusiastically  into  the 
maelstrom  of  New  York  social  problems.  First 
she  provided  a  large  part  of  the  money  neces- 
sary to  finance  a  congestion  exhibit,  which 
showed  to  New  York  some  of  the  sore  spots 
hidden  for  so  long.  Then,  for  four  months,  she 
worked  as  a  novice  in  the  city's  laundries  in 
order  to  make  a  report  on  the  conditions  sur- 
rounding the  women  workers  there.    When  the 

♦  "  A  Noble  Life,"  Ida  M.  Tarbell.     American  Magazine,  July, 
1912.    Pp.  281-287. 


THE  SPIEIT  OF  REVOLT  235 

shirtwaist  workers  struck,  she  provided  bail 
bonds  up  to  the  sum  of  ninety  thousand  dollars 
for  the  host  of  girls  who  were  arrested  for  street 
picketing.  Appointed  to  a  post  in  the  New  York 
Bureau  of  Industries  and  Immigration,  she  took 
up  that  work  with  the  same  vigor  that  had  char- 
acterized her  other  activities.  It  was  in  the 
course  of  one  of  her  inspection  trips  that  she 
was  thrown  from  a  machine  and  killed. 

Carola  Woerishoffer  was  an  example,  but  she 
was  also  a  type — an  extreme  type,  perhaps — 
of  the  women  who  have  come  to  realize  that 
some  of  the  problems  lying  without  the  home 
are  as  much  of  her  business  as  those  strictly 
domestic  duties  to  which  she  has  been  accus- 
tomed. She  felt,  saw,  and  did.  She  was  edu- 
cated, she  was  intelligent.  She  was  rich,  but 
before  all,  she  was  a  member  of  present-day 
society.  Together  with  an  increasing  army  of 
earnest  women,  she  took  her  membership  duties 
seriously. 

Illustrations  might  be  heaped  together  to 
establish  the  point.  They  abound  on  every  side. 
A  woman  who  was  studying  the  regulation  of 
prostitution  in  New  York,  was  seeking  to  in- 
terest the  wives  of  a  number  of  influential  men 
in  her  plan  to  be  arrested  as  a  street  walker, 
in  order  that  she  might  gain  a  most  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  problem.  She  hoped  that,  if 
these  women  stood  by  her,  most  of  the  unpleas- 
ant consequences  of  arrest  might  be  avoided. 


236  SOCIAL  SANITY 

So  she  explained  the  advantages  of  her  scheme 
and  the  dangers  incident  to  it.  One  of  the 
ladies,  who  had  been  listening  intently  to  the 
discussion,  leaned  forward,  suddenly. 

"  Don't  do  it  just  yet,"  she  begged;  ''  wait 
until  I  can  go  with  you." 

The  campaign  for  suffrage,  for  clean  streets, 
pure  milk,  sanitary  housing,  safe  factories,  de- 
cent hours,  wise  regulations  of  the  work  of 
women  and  children  are  all  part  of  the  women's 
revolt.  The  traditionally  weaker  sex  has  be- 
come strong;  the  supposedly  passive  part  of 
the  human  race  has  become  aggressive.  Women 
have  awakened  to  the  needs  of  the  day,  re- 
sponding nobly  to  the  call  for  action.  A  cen- 
tury ago,  women  were  hardly  counted  in  the 
scheme  of  things.  Starting  from  a  life  sur- 
rounded by  numberless  restrictions  and  tradi- 
tions, the  women  have  moved  fast  and  far  in 
their  campaign  for  a  keener  social  justice  and  a 
higher  social  morality. 

The  spirit  of  revolt  has  not  been  felt  by 
everyone.  There  are  men  and  women  in  all 
walks  of  life  who  are  thoroughly  satisfied  with 
things  as  they  are.  Yet  there  is  not  a  single 
group  in  the  modern  world  from  the  weariest 
toilers  to  the  weariest  idlers  which  has  not 
somewhere  in  its  ranks  a  band  of  "  reformers," 
**  progressives,"  or  "  radicals  "  who  preach 
enthusiastically  the  doctrine  of  revolt. 


XI 


THE  PASSION   FOR  PROGRESS 

The  spirit  revolt  is  the  negative  pole  of 
which  the  passion  for  progress  is  the  positive. 
Finding  the  injustice  of  the  present  intolerable, 
the  soul  turns  the  eye  of  faith  to  the  future, 
believing  that  there  lies  something  greater  and 
better  than  anything  that  has  been.  In  the  full- 
ness of  time,  with  the  growth  of  man's  king- 
dom, these  greater,  better  things  will  come  to 
pass.  To-day  paves  the  road  over  which  to- 
morrow will  journey  to  a  brighter  future.  Al- 
ready the  revolters  of  the  present  sense  the 
grandeur  of  that  future;  already  they  feel  the 
grip  of  its  sure  fulfillment;  and  although  they 
may  never  see,  with  the  eyes  of  the  flesh,  the 
consummation  of  those  things  for  which  they 
have  labored,  although  they  will  never  hear, 
as  did  the  anxious-watching  Columbus,  the  cry 
of  *'  Land,  land!  ";  they  may  yet  ascend  Mount 
Horeb,  and  with  the  eyes  of  the  spirit  view 
the  promised  land. 

The  passion  for  progress  is  a  human  passion 
of  gripping  power.  Once  this  passion  has 
secured  possession  of  a  soul,  until  that  soul 

237 


238  SOCIAL  SANITY 

parts  from  the  body,  it  may  rest  neither  by 
night  nor  by  day.  One  thing  alone  remains, — 
it  must  strive,  ardently,  incessantly,  for  the 
thing  which  the  spirit  has  seen.  The  passion 
for  progress  is  to  its  votaries  a  religion,  deeply 
felt,  fiercely  believed.  The  passion  for  progress 
leads  men  to  the  stake  and  to  the  gallows.  It 
compels,  ennobles,  inspires. 

Shelley,  high  priest  among  the  poet-prophets 
of  the  nineteenth  century,  writes  in  his  Preface 
to  "  Prometheus," — "  Let  this  opportunity  be 
conceded  to  me  of  acknowledging  that  I  have, 
what  a  Scotch  philosopher  characteristically 
terms,  ^  a  passion  for  reforming  the  world.' 
.  .  .  For  my  part  I  had  rather  be  damned  with 
Plato  and  Lord  Bacon,  than  to  go  to  Heaven 
with  Paley  and  Malthus."  It  is  no  less  an 
enthusiasm  which  fills  his  poetry  with  its  un- 
surpassed human  fire,  which  thrilled  through 
his  life  from  boyhood  until  his  death.  Always 
he  found  it  better  to  be  damned  with  the  choice 
spirits  of  change  than  to  be  saved  among  the 
worshipers  of  things  as  they  are.  To  the  pas- 
sionate lover  of  freedom  and  progress  no  less 
a  choice  was  open.  His  world  was  a  becoming 
world,  and  his  soul,  fired  with  the  grandeur  of 
what  is  and  with  glory  of  what  might  be,  cried 
out  always,  in  vehement  protest.  His  spirit 
breathes  in  Prometheus 's  reply  to  those  who  are 
lamenting  over  his  prospective  torments. 
Bound  to  the  precipice,  because  of  his  love  for 


THE  PASSION  FOR  PROGRESS    239 

mankind,  and  his  service  for  the  human  race, 
he  has  been  sentenced  to  torture  by  the  furies. 
Even  the  messenger  whom  Jupiter  has  sent  to 
inflict  the  torture  cannot  conceal  his  admira- 
tion of  Prometheus,  but  exclaims : — 

^'  Mercury. — Alas!    I   wonder   at,   yet   pity 

thee." 
"  Prometheus. — Pity  the  self -despising  slaves 
of  Heaven, 
Not    me,   within   whose   mind  sets   peace 

serene. 
As  light  in  the  sun,  throned.     How  vain 

is  talk! 
Call  lip  the  fiends." 

The  fiends  appear,  threaten  Prometheus,  and 
then  torture  mankind,  for  whose  welfare  Prome- 
theus has  sacrificed  so  much.  The  conflict  is  a 
terrible  one.  The  soul  of  Prometheus,  who  rep- 
resents the  new  order  of  love  and  faith,  and  the 
spirit  Jupiter,  who  is  the  god  of  the  old,  struggle 
for  mankind.  Jupiter,  for  the  moment  victori- 
ous, yet  fears  one  thing: — 

"  The  soul  of  man,  like  unextinguished  fire. 
Yet  burns  toward  heaven  with  fierce  reproach 

and  doubt, 
And  lamentation  and  reluctant  prayer. 
Hurling  up  insurrection,  which  might  make 
Our  antique  empire  insecure,  though  built 
On  eldest  faith,  and  hell's  coeval,  fear." 


240  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Nor  is  his  dread  groundless,  for  Eternity 
comes  to  lead  the  ruler  of  heaven  to  the  Abyss, 
where  he  must  dwell  in  darkness  for  evermore. 
Jupiter  curses,  threatens,  cries  for  mercy,  and 
then,  feeling  the  pinions  of  defeat  upon  him, 
he  laments  that  Prometheus  cannot  be  his  judge, 
for  despite  all  of  the  torture  which  he  has  in- 
flicted upon  him  he  well  knows  that 

"  He  would  not  doom  me  thus. 
Gentle,  and  just,  and  dreadless,  is  he  not 
The  monarch  of  the  world?  " 

No  sooner  has  the  spirit  of  Prometheus  tri- 
umphed than  a  great  change  comes  over  the  face 
of  the  world.  Crass  exteriors,  evil,  wrong,  hate, 
misery,  and  vice,  lose  their  grip  on  men  and 
things  so  that  in  a  twinkling  the  light  of 
Prometheus 's  victory  is  all-pervasive.  It  is 
this  vision  which  the  Spirit  of  the  Earth  de- 
scribes : — 

''  My  path  lately  lay  through  a  great  city 
Into  the  woody  hills  surrounding  it: 
A  sentinel  ivas  sleeping  at  the  gate: 
When  there  was  heard  a  sound,  so  loud,  it 

shook 
The  towers  amid  the  moonlight,  yet  more 

siveet 
Than  any  voice  hut  thine,  sweetest  of  all; 
A  long,  long  sound,  as  it  would  never  end: 
And  all  the  inhabitants  leapt  suddenly 
Out  of  their  rest,  and  gathered  in  the  streets, 


THE  PASSION  FOR  PROGRESS    241 

Looking  in  ivonder  up  to  Heaven,  while  yet 
The  music  pleaded  along.   .    .    .  and  soon 
Those  ugly  human  shapes  and  visages 
Of  ivhich  I  spoke  as  having  ivrought  me  pain, 
Passed  floating  through  the  air,  and  fading 

still 
Into  the  winds  that  scattered  them;  and  those 
From  ivhom  they  passed  seemed  mild  and 

lovely  forms 
After  some  foul  disguise  had  fallen,  and  all 
Were  somewhat  changed,  and  after  brief  sur- 
prise 
And  greetings  of  delighted  ivonder,  all 
Went  to  their  sleep  again :  and  tvhen  the  daivn 
Came,  wouldst   thou  think   that  toads,  and 

snakes,  and  efts. 
Could  e'er  he  heautifulf  yet  so  they  ivere. 
And  that  with  little  change  of  shape  or  hue." 

Nowhere  in  literature  is  there  a  passage 
which  surpasses  this  in  portrayal  of  the  world 
as  it  will  be  when  men  have  replaced  fear  and 
hate  by  love  and  hope.  No  poet  better  than 
Shelley  could  have  penned  such  a  prophecy, 
because  in  him  the  prophetic  spirit  ran  deep 
and  strong. 

Shelley  is  not  alone  in  his  hope  for  the  fu- 
ture. The  passion  for  progress  breathes  in 
other  men.  The  great  French  idealist,  like  the 
English  poet,  believed  in  the  future.  At  a  mo- 
ment of  fateful  import,  just  before  the  dawn 


242  SOCIAL  SANITY 

which  marked  the  time  of  his  execution,  Gauvain 
looked  into  the  future.  His  crime  was  one 
against  the  Republic, — he  had  aided  the  escape 
of  a  prisoner  whose  calm  bravery  in  a  terrible 
crisis  had  won  his  love  and  esteem.  In  these  last 
moments  of  his  life,  spent  with  his  much  loved 
tutor,  Gauvain  spoke  of  the  future,  appraising 
its  indescribable  possibilities. 

"  This  is  my  thought,  constant  progression. 
If  God  had  meant  man  to  retrograde  he  would 
have  put  an  eye  in  the  back  of  his  head.  Let 
us  look  always  toward  the  dawn,  the  blossom- 
ing, the  birth;  that  which  falls  encourages  that 
which  mounts.  The  cracking  of  the  old  tree  is 
an  appeal  to  the  new." 

"  Let  us  be  a  human  society,  greater  than 
Nature?  Yes.  If  you  add  nothing  to  Nature, 
why  go  beyond  her?  Content  yourself  with 
work  like  the  ant;  with  honey,  like  the  bee. 
Remain  the  working  drudge  instead  of  the 
queen  intelligence.  If  you  add  to  Nature,  you 
necessarily  become  greater  than  she ;  to  increase 
is  to  augment;  to  augment  is  to  grow.  Society 
is  Nature  sublimated.  I  want  all  that  is  lacking 
to  bee-hives,  all  that  is  lacking  to  ant-hills — 
monuments,  arts,  poesy,  heroes,  genius.  To 
bear  eternal  burdens  is  not  the  destiny  of  man. 
No,  no,  no !  No  more  pariahs,  no  more  slaves,  no 
more  convicts,  no  more  damned !  I  desire  that 
each  of  the  attributes  of  man  should  be  a  symbol 
of  civilization  and  a  patron  of  progress ;  I  would 


THE  PASSION  FOR  PROGRESS    243 

place  liberty  before  the  spirit,  equality  before 
the  heart,  fraternity  before  the  soul.  No  more 
yokes !  Man  was  made  not  to  drag  chains,  but 
to  soar  on  wings.  No  more  of  man  the  reptile. 
I  wish  the  transfiguration  of  the  larva  into  the 
winged  creature ;  I  wish  the  worm  of  the  earth 
to  turn  into  a  living  flower  and  fly  away?  "  * 

So  shines  the  hope  of  the  future  in  the  soul 
of  poet  and  idealist.  Time  was  when  they  alone 
might  justly  claim  these  domains.  So  far  away 
they  seemed  that  when  men  thought  of  them  at 
all  it  was  in  terms  of  a  paradise,  where  ease  and 
luxury  should  replace  the  hardships  and  nig- 
gardliness of  a  too  unwilling  world.  To-day, 
the  spirit  of  progress  has  made  its  home  in  the 
breasts  of  men  in  many  walks  of  life.  On  all 
sides  the  ranks  of  the  children  of  the  established 
order  are  giving  place  to  a  new  company, — the 
cliildren  of  the  forward  look.  Or  rather  say 
that  these  latter  children  have  forced  them- 
selves, sometimes  in  the  face  of  the  most  vigor- 
ous opposition,  into  the  place  once  occupied  by 
the  established  order.  They  are  full  of  anima- 
tion, enthusiasm,  vitality,  life.  "  These  Chil- 
dren of  the  Forward  Look  are  the  really  sig- 
nificant part  of  society.  They  make  it  worth 
while.  They  dance  on  ahead  with  light  feet  and 
merry  hearts  and  high  purpose, — the  leaders, 
prophets,  poets,  artists,  heretics,  protestants, — 
singing  one  song  in  many  places  and  in  many 

*"  Ninety-Three,"  Victor  Hugo  :  "  The  Dungeon." 


244  SOCIAL  SANITY 

tongues — the  Song  of  the  Beyond-Man.  It  is 
this  life-giving  hope  which  keeps  our  merry 
company  of  free  spirits  in  such  high  good  hu- 
mor. They  are  not  dull  and  overfed  and  con- 
tented. They  are  alert  with  the  wine  of  life. 
They  are  hungry  for  more  life.  They  are  con- 
tented, not  with  the  present,  but  with  the  fu- 
ture." * 

Everywhere  the  cry  is  heard, — the  cry  of 
these  hopeful  ones.  On  all  sides  it  arises.  So 
far  has  it  penetrated  the  atmosphere  of  the 
times,  that  dull  scientists,  touched  with  its 
spirit,  burst  strong  and  full-bodied  into  poetic 
splendor  of  language  and  of  thought.  Restive' 
under  the  prescribed  bonds  of  pure  science,  the 
great  Huxley  speaks  from  the  heart  of  the  things 
of  this  life  for  the  science  of  the  future, — ' '  But 
in  every  age,  one  or  two  restless  spirits, 
blessed  with  that  constructive  genius,  which  can 
only  build  on  a  secure  foundation,  or  cursed 
with  the  spirit  of  mere  skepticism,  are  unable 
to  follow  in  the  well-worn  and  comfortable  track 
of  their  forefathers  and  contemporaries,  un- 
mindful of  thorns  and  stumbling-blocks,  strike 
out  into  paths  of  their  own.  The  skeptics  end 
in  the  infidelity  which  asserts  the  problem  to 
be  insoluble,  or  in  the  atheism  which  denies  the 
existence  of  any  orderly  progress  and  govern- 
ance of  things:  the  men  of  genius  propound 

*  "  Pay  Day."  C.  H.  Henderson.  Boston  :  Houghton  Miflflin, 
1911.     Pp.  3,  4. 


THE  PASSION  FOR  PROGRESS    245 

solutions  which  grow  into  systems  of  Theology 
or  of  Philosophy,  or  veiled  in  musical  language 
which  suggests  more  than  it  asserts,  take  the 
shape  of  the  Poetry  of  an  epoch."  * 

How  splendid  such  a  view,  coming,  as  it  does, 
strong-scented  with  the  odors  of  the  dissecting 
table  and  the  lecture  room!  Even  from  the 
least  of  these, — even  from  the  deductive  ana- 
lysts, tearing  in  pieces  the  kingdoms  of  earth, 
and  rejecting  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  because  it  will  not  yield 
itself  to  the  edge  of  the  keenest  scalpel, — from 
among  such  arise  prophetic  ones  who  see  in  the 
materialism  of  their  science  a  faint  reflection 
of  the  spirituality  of  all  things.  Although  Hux- 
ley dealt  admirably  with  the  minutiae  of  the 
kingdom  of  the  world,  the  idea  of  the  great 
whole  never  escaped  him.  Always  his  vision 
transcended  the  immediate  present,  revealing  to 
him  a  future  rich  in  endless  possibilities. 
''  Healthy  humanity  finding  itself  hard-pressed 
to  escape  from  real  sin  and  degradation  will 
leave  the  brooding  over  speculative  pollution 
to  the  cynics  and  the  '  righteous  overmuch  ' 
who,  disagreeing  in  everything  else,  unite  in 
blind  insensibility  to  the  nobleness  of  the  visible 
world,  and  in  inability  to  appreciate  the  gran- 
deur of  the  place  Man  occupies  therein,  "f 

*"  Man's  Place  in  Nature,"  T.  H.  Huxley.     New  York:  D. 
Appleton  &  Co.,  1902.     Pp.  77,  78. 
\Ibid.,  p.  154. 


246  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Hear  the  voice  of  one  other  philosopher  of 
the  future,— Nietzsche,  called  "  brutalist  "  by 
those,  the  children  of  the  established  order,  be- 
cause he  saw  a  vision  which  their  narrower 
souls  could  not  compass. 

"  What?  "  he  cries  in  indignant  protest. 
''  A  fatherland.  Thither  striveth  our  rudder, 
where  our  children's  land  is.  Out  thither, 
stormier  than  the  sea ;  our  great  longing  storm- 
eth."  "  Unto  my  children  shall  I  make  amends 
for  being  the  child  of  my  fathers ;  and  unto  all 
the  future  shall  I  make  amends  for  this  pres- 
ent! "  "0  my  brethren,  not  backward  shall 
your  nobility  gaze,  but  forward!  Expelled  ye 
shall  be  from  all  fathers'  and  forefathers' 
lands!  Your  children's  land  ye  shall  love,  (be 
this  love  your  new  nobility!) 

*'  The  land  undiscovered,  in  the  remotest  sea! 
For  it  bid  your  sails  seek  and  seek!  "  "  All 
those  who  do  not  wish  to  live  unless  they  learn 
to  hope  again,  unless  they  learn  from  thee,  0 ! 
Zarathustra,  the  Great  Hope!  "  * 

The  classic  civilizations  died  when  they  lost 
hope.  Having  subjected  the  world  to  their  polit- 
ical sway,  they  retired,  blase,  to  the  feast  halls, 
or  else,  satiated  with  conquest,  languished  for 
other  worlds  to  subdue.  Limited  to  military 
glory  and  speculative  philosophy,  they  early 
reached  the  final  possibilities  of  each,  and  then 

♦  "Thus  Spake  Zarathustra." 


THE  PASSION  FOR  PROGRESS    247 

left  them,  almost  gladly,  to  the  hands  of  the 
barbarians.  How  has  our  world  broadened! 
Experimental  science  and  mechanics  open  the 
way  to  the  vaster  reaches  of  metaphysics;  ex- 
perimental democracy  holds  untold  possibilities 
for  future  efforts,  and  the  world,  tied  close  with 
threads  of  steel  and  invisible  bands  of  electric 
discharge,  presses  eagerly  forward,  its  eyes 
fixed  on  the  future,  searching,  searching,  for 
life,  joy,  satisfaction.  Not  alone  among  the 
mighty,  outside  the  vale  of  culture  and  hered- 
itary greatness,  this  passion  has  taken  firm  hold 
upon  the  minds  of  men.  It  doth  not  yet  appear 
what  we  shall  be,  but  surely,  surely,  the  future 
holds  many  things  grander  than  the  things  of 
to-day.  The  fire  of  progress  burnt  out  among 
the  ancients,  for  lack  of  fuel.  For  us,  the  re- 
sources seem  limitless,  and  the  fire  burns  bright 
and  strong — sometimes  even  raging. 

Greatest  factor  of  all  perhaps,  in  the  world- 
sweep  of  the  passion  for  progress,  is  the  con- 
sciousness that  society  may  in  large  measure 
grant  or  withhold  the  most  essential  of  all  of 
the  factors  in  progress — opportunity.  Oppor- 
tunity is  in  the  hands  of  men.  The  kingdom 
of  man  may  be  made  either  a  garden  of  oppor- 
tunity, or  a  desert  of  fatalistic  determinism,  and 
men  do  the  work. 

Yet  once  more  the  doubters  storm  the  citadel 
of  hope.  Time  was  when  in  answer  to  any  argu- 
ment for  progress,  they  could  recline  luxuri- 


248  SOCIAL  SANITY 

OTisly  on  the  down  cusMons  of  an  easy  faitK 
and  reply, — "  Let  be !  It  is  the  will  of  God," — 
a  dirge  which  has  lulled  to  sleep  thousands  of 
rising  consciences ;  a  requiem  moaned  over  the 
corpse  of  many  a  long  cherished  hope.  In  the 
bitterness  of  her  rebellious  spirit,  Glad,  on  be- 
ing admonished  to  heed  the  will  of  God,  cries : — 

"  When  a  dray  run  over  little  Billy  an' 
crushed  'im  inter  a  rag,  an'  'is  mother  was 
screamin'  an'  draggin'  'er  'air  down,  the  curick 
'e  ses, '  It's  Gawd's  will,'  'e  ses— an'  'e  ain't  no 
bad  sort  neither  an'  'is  fice  was  white  an'  wet 
with  sweat — '  Gawd  done  it,'  'e  ses.  An'  me, 
I'd  nussed  the  child,  an'  I  clawed  me  'air  sime 
as  if  'was  'is  mother  an'  screamed  out,  '  Then 
damn  'im  j  '  "  * 

There  is  still  an  intrenchment,  behind  which 
the  children  of  the  established  order  make  a 
determined  stand.  No  longer  able  to  shoulder 
the  results  of  social  misdoing  upon  a  merciful 
God  or  a  convenient  devil,  they  answer  "  Alas, 
that  is  human  nature. ' '  Human  nature !  What 
is  human  nature?  Is  it  the  same  yesterday, 
to-day,  and  forever  more!  There  is  then  no 
beyond  man,  no  forward  look?  Humanity  alone 
of  all  the  great  universe  is  standing  still.  Each 
other  thing  is  changing  with  the  times.  Man 
remains. 

What  more  hopeless  or  absurd  concept  than 
that  human  nature  does  not  change.    Man,  like 

*  "  Dawn  of  a  To-morrow,"  Francis  H.  Burnett. 


THE  PASSION  FOR  PROGRESS    249 

every  other  being,  was,  and  he  becomes.  His  life 
is  a  continuous  transformation.  Contrast  the 
human  nature  of  western  Europe  with  the  hu- 
man nature  of  the  Caledonian  savages.  In 
every  line  man  differs  from  man.  There  are 
certain  things  common  to  all  humanity — five 
fingers  on  each  of  two  hands;  two  eyes;  the 
power  of  speech;  emotions;  rage;  fear;  hate; 
sex  passion;  judgment  and  reason.  Compare 
each  of  these  things,  and  you  will  find  that,  even 
in  these,  the  two  groups  of  men  differ.  The  atti- 
tude, the  thoughts,  the  spirit  of  their  living — by 
far  the  most  important  element  in  a  civilization 
— have  utterly  changed. 

The  Caledonian,  the  Tasmanian, — they  know 
nothing  of  love,  of  altruism,  of  science, — con- 
cepts which  are  a  part  of  the  heritage  of  the 
Western  races.  Notwithstanding  the  exceptional 
cases  of  abnormal  inhumanity  man  has  ad- 
vanced; human  form  and  human  nature  have 
both  evolved.  In  the  future  lie  yet  greater 
triumphs. 

The  "  will  of  God  "  w^as  a  bogey,  used  to 
frighten  half -tutored  savages.  '^  Human  na- 
ture "  is  a  shibboleth,  having  for  its  justifica- 
tion about  the  same  elements  of  truth  and  error 
as  does  any  other  shibboleth.  Attend!  while 
the  passion  for  progress  speaks  of  the  future, 
made  possible  through  the  will  of  man. 


xn 

THE  QUINTESSENCE  OF  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Though  we  are  imbued  with  the  passion  for 
progress,  though  we  feel  within  us  the  spirit 
of  revolt,  we  would  be  sane.  Each  issue  as  it 
is  presented  we  would  face  in  the  spirit  of  sci- 
ence; each  new  day  we  would  begin  in  the  at- 
mosphere of  virile,  sound  living.  We  would  en- 
large, with  all  of  the  power  that  lies  in  us,  man's 
kingdom.  Within  the  boundaries  of  that  king- 
dom we  would  insure  welfare  and  guarantee 
human  rights. 

As  a  community  we  would  be  sane — sane  in 
living,  sane  in  labor,  sane  in  thought,  sane  in 
belief.    We  covet  social  sanity. 

Yet  how  clearly  does  it  appear,  even  to  our 
dull  senses,  that  a  living  for  one  is  not  truly 
sane  until  a  living  has  been  assured  to  all. 
Above  all  else,  how  obvious  does  it  seem  that 
each  child  that  comes  into  the  world  must  be 
given  a  legitimate  chance  to  develop  whatever 
power  lies  within  him.  If  people  were  born 
with  a  fatalistic  curse  upon  their  lives,  pre- 
destined to  wrongdoing;  if  total  depravity  were 
an  inherited  thing,  the  product  of  the  degen- 

250 


QUINTESSENCE  OF  SOCIAL  SANITY   251 

eracy  of  past  ages,  progress  would  be  impos- 
sible. During  the  centuries  when  such  ideas 
were  held,  little  progress  was  made  because  each 
person  felt  the  impossibility  of  a  forward  move- 
ment. The  last  few  years  have  witnessed  a 
transformation  in  this  attitude.  Thinkers  have 
turned  from  the  total  depravity  theory  to  the 
universal  capacity  theory.  Now,  on  all  sides, 
they  vigorously  maintain  the  possibility  of  im- 
provement if  opportunity  is  made  universal. 

Why  afford  opportunity?  Why,  indeed? 
Why  seek  welfare  in  adjustment?  It  is  true 
that  some  men  are  born  to  be  hewers  of  wood 
and  drawers  of  water,  born  without  ambition 
or  capacity,  born  without  the  qualities  which 
make  men  run  steadily.  Nevertheless,  the  chil- 
dren of  these  men  may,  and  frequently  do,  have 
ambition,  capacity,  and  quality.  It  is  for  them 
that  we  provide  universal  opportunity.  It  is 
because  of  the  infinite,  unknown  possibilities  of 
each  soul  that  we  seek  to  start  each  man  at  the 
same  mark,  well  equipped  for  the  race  of  life. 
He  may  drop  out  of  the  race  before  he  has 
completed  his  first  lap,  but  he  may  go  to  the 
end, — a  triumphant  victor.  The  possibility  that 
he  may  be  worthy  is  the  ground  on  which  we 
demand  opportunity  for  him. 

The  scientific  discoveries  of  the  past  fifty 
years  have  led  inevitably  to  the  conclusion  that 
the  great  majority  of  men  are  born  with  rela- 
tively equal  capacities.    The  real  differences  in 


252  SOCIAL  SANITY 

the  achievements  of  their  lives  are  made  by  the 
variations  in  opportunity.  This  necessitates  a 
revision  of  the  old  social  code,  and  the  adop- 
tion of  the  newer,  broader  standard. 

Some  men  are  depraved,  sinful,  wicked;  na- 
ture's man  is  a  good  man:  therefore,  "  Back  to 
nature,"  cried  Rousseau.  "  Humanity  is  iden- 
tity," insisted  Hugo.  There  is  in  every  man 
a  spark  which  the  light  will  cause  to  develop, 
but  which,  in  the  darkness  of  ignorance,  is 
crusted  and  blackened  until  its  radiance  is  well- 
nigh  extinguished.  Emerson  in  like  spirit  con- 
tended that,  "  Every  man  is  a  divinity  in  dis- 
guise." And  later  Lester  F.  Ward,  analyzing 
the  problem  at  length  in  his  "  Applied  Sociol- 
ogy," contends  earnestly  that  in  a  great  major- 
ity of  cases  opportunity  makes  the  man. 

Two  children  are  born  on  the  same  day — born 
with  equal  power  of  body,  mind,  and  soul.  One 
is  carefully  fed,  well  clothed,  and  housed,  taken 
to  the  mountains  in  summer,  surrounded  by  cul- 
tured men  and  women  and  by  congenial  play- 
mates, sent  through  school  and  college,  and  at 
the  age  of  twenty-two  established  in  a  law  office 
with  the  best  of  recommendations  and  i^rospects. 
The  other  child,  badly  fed  and  housed,  grows 
up  in  an  atmosphere  of  neglect.  His  body  is 
anemic ;  his  mind  is  untrained.  His  father,  who 
never  earned  more  than  a  pittance,  falls  sick; 
so  at  twelve  the  undeveloped,  neglected  boy  is 
sent,  without  encouragement  or  outlook,  to  tie 


QUINTESSENCE  OF  SOCIAL  SANITY  253 

threads  in  a  cotton  mill.  At  twenty-two  he  is 
earning  nine  dollars  a  week.  At  times  the  am- 
bition to  study  law  has  flitted  across  his  mind, 
but  who  would  support  mother  and  the  children 
while  he  was  at  his  books?  He  dismisses  the 
thought,  and  goes  on  with  his  work.  If  the  first 
boy  had  been  similarly  reared,  he  would  be  in 
the  cotton  factory.  The  start  was  uneven;  one 
boy  had  a  handicap  of  physique,  mental  train- 
ing, soul  expansion,  and  ten  years  of  freedom 
to  play  and  grow.  The  other  boy  was  damned 
in  his  cradle.  It  is  for  his  sake, — for  the  boy 
who  might  have  been  a  brilliant  lawyer, — that 
we  preach  the  doctrine  of  opportunity. 

An  overwhelming  majority  of  people  are  nor- 
mal at  birth,  and  if  given  an  opportunity  will 
lead  normal,  happy  lives.  Were  opportunity 
provided,  adjustment  would  be  assured.  Each 
new  generation  presents  the  same  spectacle. 
Children  are  born  with  capacity.  Congestion, 
low  standards  of  food  and  clothing,  overwork, — 
all  of  these  things  crush  the  qualities  which 
make  for  achievement.  Society  abounds  in  ca- 
pacity which  is  latent — unused — because  of  the 
lack  of  opportunity  for  its  development.  This 
capacity  is  needed,  and  its  development,  a  social 
responsibility,  is  intimately  dependent  upon  the 
socializing  of  opportunity. 

In  order  to  secure  this  universality  of  oppor- 
tunity which  will  insure  individual  development, 
some  changes  must  be  made  in  the  environment. 


254  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Families  are  underpaid  and  badly  housed;  the 
children  are  sent  into  the  mills  at  fourteen ;  the 
school  system  does  not  prepare  its  pupils  for 
life ;  men  die  at  an  early  age  because  of  indus- 
trial accidents,  sickness,  and  other  preventable 
causes  of  death.  In  these  and  a  thousand  other 
ways,  the  opportunity  of  the  individual  is  cur- 
tailed by  a  defective  environment. 

Regarding  these  conditions  advocates  of 
progress  are  in  virtual  agreement, — they  may 
all  be  reshaped,  adjusted,  if  society  wishes  to 
advance.  Disadvantageous  social  conditions 
are  the  work  of  man.  No  divine  will  has  placed 
them  in  the  path  of  progress.  They  are  the 
creation  of  human  society,  and  as  such  may  be 
socially  eliminated.  Further,  they  are  being 
rapidly  changed  through  the  activity  of  a  public 
opinion,  aroused  by  the  reformers,  insurgents, 
or  progressives, — by  whatever  name  they  are 
called.  Seeing  the  path  clear  before  them,  these 
believers  in  progress  are  insisting  upon  a  com- 
plete adjustment  of  the  environment  to  the  needs 
of  man. 

Read  where  you  will  in  the  writings  of  those 
who  believe  in  progress,  and  you  will  find  that, — 
(1)  opportunity  is  the  goal;  (2)  all  people  are 
worth  while;  and  (3)  adjustment  is  possible. 
With  such  a  basis  of  agreement  as  to  ends,  but 
one  thing  remains, — the  reformers  must  agree 
upon  the  method  necessary  for  their  attainment. 
Agreement  has  been  reached  regarding  all  the 


QUINTESSENCE  OF  SOCIAL  SANITY    255 

important  premises  on  which  progress  is  based. 
The  only  real  disagreement  relates  to  the 
method  of  insuring  progress. 

Even  as  regards  method  a  measure  of  unison 
prevails.  It  is  generally  admitted  that  improve- 
ments are  made  through  evolution  rather  than 
through  revolution.  Sudden  disturbances  do 
not  effect  important  changes,  either  biologic  or 
social.  Revolutions  do  occur, — providing  much 
food  for  thought.  Nevertheless,  no  man  can 
conceive  of  a  revolution  which  would  result  in 
changing  the  methods  of  thought  or  the  motives 
of  activity  of  any  one  generation  of  people. 
The  incoming  of  the  factory  system  and  the 
enunciation  of  Darwin's  concept  of  evolution, 
are  good  illustrations  of  revolutionary  changes. 
In  both  of  these  cases,  the  change  in  popular 
opinion  has  required  decades  for  its  comple- 
tion. The  pages  of  biologic  and  of  social  his- 
tory are  written  in  terms  of  slow  change. 

An  even  more  perfect  agreement  exists 
among  reformers  on  the  subject  of  education. 
Each  concludes  his  programme  with  the  state- 
ment, ' '  If  you  will  but  educate  the  popular  mind 
to  a  point  of  intelligent  thinking,  it  will  rec- 
ognize the  fundamental  worthiness  of  my 
scheme  for  reform.  Education  must,  however, 
precede  conversion."  This  idea  of  the  neces- 
sity of  education  underlies  the  work  of  every 
reformer,  who  sees  plainly  that  education  lays 
the  foundation  for  progress. 


256  SOCIAL  SANITY 

Here  lies  the  path  toward  opportunity.  Here, 
ready  at  hand,  are  the  means, — capable  men 
and  women,  educational  machinery,  and  a  be- 
lief in  the  possibility  of  improvement.  Does 
mankind  still  hesitate!  Do  intelligent  beings 
still  pause!  Does  anyone  dream  that  there  is 
not  need  for  drastic  readjustment?  Hardly! 
Then  why  wait  longer?  This  is  surely  the  ac- 
ceptable time! 

Why  wait?  Only  because  the  traditions  of 
the  past  hamper  the  movements  of  large  bodies. 
Only  because,  things  having  been  done  in  a  cer- 
tain way  for  a  time,  it  becomes  anti-social  even 
to  suggest  that  they  be  done  in  another  way. 
These  methods  have  been  used  in  past  ages; 
they  have  been  tested  and  tried;  they  are  at 
least  workable ;  why  change  ? 

What  validity  attaches  to  such  an  argument? 
How  much  of  truth  does  such  a  doctrine  hold  ? 
We  are  bound  to  the  past — how  strictly?  Here 
be  our  declaration  of  faith  in  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  to-morrow: — 

We  are  living,  breathing,  aspiring,  believing 
women  and  men,  standing  upright,  looking  hope- 
fully, fearlessly,  into  the  future.  In  our  beings 
surges  the  spirit  of  the  twentieth  century — our 
century.  To  the  warnings,  predictions,  and  be- 
hests of  the  past  we  pay  this  much  heed — they 
built,  they  formulated,  they  aspired,  they  hoped 
■ — for  all  of  these  things  we  respect  them. 
Where  the  foundation  which  they  built  was 


QUINTESSENCE  OF  SOCIAL  SANITY   257 

stropg  and  sound,  we  erect  upon  it  our  super- 
structure; those  of  the  formulas  which  have 
proven  of  value,  we  accept ;  their  prophecies  we 
observe  with  critical  interest;  their  hopes — the 
hopes  of  progressing  humanity — we  honor.  But 
we,  too,  are  human  beings.  We  build.  We 
formulate.  We  aspire.  We  hope.  We,  now, 
in  the  tense,  vital,  full-starred  present,  live  our 
lives, — lives  which  they  in  the  dead  past  cannot 
share ;  lives  which  those  others,  yearning  to  us 
out  of  the  plastic  future,  will  bless  or  curse  ac- 
cording as  we  shape  them. 

Good  is  it  that  thou  sayest,  ''  I  am  the  child 
of  my  fathers."  Better  is  it  that  thou  sayest, 
"  I  am  a  man  among  men."  Best  of  all  it  is 
when  ye  shall  join  your  voices  in  a  mighty 
anthem  of  thanksgiving,  crying  unto  the  uni- 
verse, "  We  are  the  progenitors  of  an  unsur- 
passed future." 

The  past  lived  and  died  in  the  past.  Ours 
is  the  present — the  time  in  which  we  re-plight 
our  faith  with  the  spirit  of  the  living  God  in 
us;  in  which  we  beget  and  bear  noble  children; 
in  which  we  pledge  ourselves  to  a  new  declara- 
tion of  life  wherein  it  shall  be  written  that  every 
child  born  into  the  world  must  have  an  equal 
chance  to  share  the  good  things  which  the  world 
holds  in  store.  Misery,  vice,  starvation,  low 
wages,  unearned  fortunes,  squandered  luxury, 
blackest  inhumanity,  are  in  the  past.  Let  them 
die  there.    For  we,  in  our  generation,  have  here 


258  SOCIAL  SANITY 

highly  resolved  that  when  the  day  comes  that 
our  bones  shall  be  laid  to  rest  beside  those  of 
our  fathers,  the  world  in  which  we  lived  and 
labored  and  loved  will  be  fuller  than  it  has 
even  been  before  of  the  joy  in  noble  living. 

The  time  has  come  to  organize  a  sane  society, 
— a  society  of  men  and  women  who  are  educated, 
efficient,  cultured ;  a  society  in  which  health  and 
life  are  conserved;  a  society  of  which  justice 
is  the  corner-stone,  with  ennobled  manhood  and 
womanhood  the  central  dome,  reaching  to  high 
heaven. 

Full  of  hope  the  world  is  turning  to  the  fu- 
ture, enthusiastic,  prophetic,  in  the  faith  of  its 
appeal.  Surmounting  their  narrower  selves, 
men  have  come  to  feel  that : — 

**  We  build  the  ladder  by  which  we  rise 
From  the  loivly  earth  to  the  vaulted  skies, 
And  mount  to  the  summit  round  by  round. 


)f 


No  longer  are  we  depending  upon  the  hands 
of  some  other.  Each  day  must  the  rungs  be 
shaped  and  placed,  and  each  day  it  is  the  hand 
of  man  that  must  do  the  work.  Through  the 
upbuilding  of  the  race,  through  the  reconstruc- 
tion of  civilization,  by  means  whereof  the  mind 
of  man  has  not  yet  even  dreamed,  shall  man 
build  beyond-man! 

Pessimism,  gripping  men  in  bygone  days,  had 
led  everywhere  to  the  backward  look.    Unsat- 


QUINTESSENCE  OF  SOCIAL  SANITY    259 

isfied  humanity  gazed  longingly  into  the  past, 
then  turned  to  look  hopelessly  into  the  future. 
"  Time  was,"  whispers  the  demon  within  them, 
and  deaf  to  any  other  voice,  lost  in  contempla- 
tion of  glories  long  s-ince  passed  away,  these 
men  of  little  vision  have  felt  the  present  fall 
from  them  like  a  garment;  the  future  withers 
away,  hopeless  and  meaningless;  while  the  light 
of  the  golden  ages  long  passed  has  flooded  the 
aching  heart  and  gladdened  the  empty,  somber 
chambers  of  their  lives. 

Upon  such  a  field  of  desolation, — a  kingdom 
which  man  was  giving  over  to  the  fowls  of 
the  air,  the  beasts  of  the  field,  the  goblins  of 
black  despair,  and  the  will-o'-the-wisp  of 
the  golden  ages  long  gone  by, — the  spirit  of 
science  has  led  optimism.  In  a  twinkling  the 
face  of  the  world  changes.  Through  the  eyes 
of  faith,  man  sees  beyond  the  structures  of  the 
present  into  the  golden  wonders  of  an  untried 
future.  In  the  chaos  of  a  struggling  civilization 
he  sees  the  partially  completed  records  of  his 
greatness  and  the  greaterness  of  his  children's 
children.  Delusion  vanishes;  and  afflicted 
man,  rousing  himself  from  his  lethargy,  learns 
to  believe  that  the  hope  of  the  present  is  not 
in  the  past,  but  in  the  future.  The  world  is 
becoming — ^becoming  under  his  guidance.  The 
gates  of  his  kingdom  are  thrown  wide  before 
him.  Shall  he  enter  in?  He  may  continue  to 
gloat  on  the  past,  reclining  in  his  easy  chair 


260  SOCIAL  SANITY 

of  prejudice,  bigotry,  and  tradition, — Canute- 
like, commanding  the  waves  of  the  spirit  of 
progress  to  refrain  from  lapping  his  feet ;  or  he 
may  make  himself  a  part  of  the  spirit  of  the 
times,  and,  thrilled  with  the  passion  of  progress, 
strive  ardently  to  broaden  the  borders  of  the 
kingdom  of  man. 


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UNIVERSITY  of  CALIFORNIA 
UBRAKY 


